


You Blew Away My Storm and Strife

by imamaryanne



Series: The Volleyball injury [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Falling In Love, M/M, background Jack/Bitty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imamaryanne/pseuds/imamaryanne
Summary: Kent Parson is dating his teammate's brother. He's perfectly happy having a very small circle of people who know about him and his relationship, and he's sure he'll be closeted for the entirety of his hockey career. When that very small circle starts to widen, Kent isn't sure it's the best thing for him. Then Jack Zimmermann kisses Eric Bittle on national television and everything changes.Sequel to my long ago work, When the Opportunity Presents Itself.
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Volleyball injury [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141142
Comments: 39
Kudos: 58





	1. First Date

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote When The Opportunity Presents itself four and a half years ago. I always had it in the back of my head to write a little more with Kent and Grant, and this pandemic actually offered me the time to get it done. The original was written for Kent Parson Birthday Bash, but the person for whom I wrote it is no longer on ao3. 
> 
> It's not mandatory that you read that one first (though I'd love it if you did, it's only 4k words!) but basically, Kent meets Grant, who is an ER doctor and the brother of Kent's teammate. They hit it off and agree to go on a date.
> 
> Title is from Life Less Ordinary by Carbon Leaf
> 
> This quote is a good summary of the work: To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.  
>  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Kent went to dinner at Grant’s house a few nights later. Grant lived in a neighborhood close to the hospital, comprised mostly of neat little stucco bungalows. Grant’s house was in the same beige as many Vegas homes, and had a rocky front yard with desert shrubs placed neatly along a path to the front door. Kent pulled up the driveway behind Grant’s Prius and made his way to the front door. 

Grant answered almost immediately. “Kent, hi. Come on in.” He held the door open for Kent who stepped into a small foyer. “This is a no-shoes house,” Grant said. 

Kent slipped out of his shoes and followed Grant from the entry into the kitchen. “Nice house,” he said. He looked at Grant and noticed he’d gotten his hair cut in the few days since they last saw each other. 

“I like it,” Grant said. “Want the tour?”

“Yeah,” Kent said. He was a naturally nosy person who loved to see what other peoples houses looked like. He could never decide on what style was “him” so he’d had a decorator come over and do his whole condo, it was all sleek and modern. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t exactly love it either, and he had no idea what to do or how to change it. 

“Kitchen, obviously,” Grant said. It was a small kitchen, but nice. Stainless steel appliances and black granite counter tops. The refrigerator was covered in drawings done by his nieces, which Kent had to admit, was fucking adorable. 

The dining room was attached to the kitchen and was fairly bland, but the living room was a little bit like a library. Grant had a TV, set into a cut out of a bookcase. And one whole wall was a built in bookcase. Kent wasn’t a huge reader. He listened to audiobooks when they were traveling on roadies. Audiobooks calmed him more than music did. But what he listened to was mostly junk lit with fast-paced plots, like mysteries by James Patterson or Sue Grafton. 

Grant’s books looked like real literature, with a lot of non-fiction thrown in. 

“Have you read all of these?” Kent asked.

“Oh no,” Grant said, laughing a little. “A lot of them I’ve read, but I tend to obtain books with the intentions of reading them but getting distracted by other things.” 

Kent thought that was weird, but okay. 

They went up a staircase from the living room to an upstairs landing. “Guest bedroom,” Grant said, opening the door to a plainly decorated bedroom, “Bathroom,” he pointed to a door. “Master bedroom,” he said, opening the third door. The master was large, probably as large as the entire living room downstairs had been, and it had its own ensuite. This room was colorfully decorated, with green walls, a couple of big splashy abstract pieces of art, a large picture of Grant, Pete and their parents when the boys were teeanagers, and a king size bed with a royal blue and gray patterned comforter. It was slightly messy, with an overflowing hamper and dust settling on the knick-knacks on the dresser top. Kent noticed yet another book on the night stand,  _ We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir.  _ That made Kent feel even worse. Trying to hide from his own gay identity meant that he tended to run from learning anything about queer history or identities. He didn’t need that kind of pressure to come out. 

They went back to the kitchen where Grant was working on making dinner. “Pete said you don’t have to follow the diet as much in the off season,” Grant said. “So I’m making this chicken red pepper pasta thing. It’s got a lot of butter in it.” 

“That sounds great,” Kent said. This guy was a doctor, read a lot of books,  _ and  _ could cook a nice meal. Kent was pretty sure Grant was out of his league. “Can I help?” 

“It’s almost done,” Grant said, peeking in at the bubbling sauce on the stove top. “I just need to drop the noodles. You can pull the salad out of the refrigerator, and there are about a million dressings in there, choose what you like.” 

Kent followed his instructions. “Can I get drinks?” he asked. 

Grant kicked a small wine fridge set under the counter with his toe, “Choose one.” 

“I don’t know much about wine,” Kent admitted. Kent wasn’t a heavy drinker. During the season he’d have a drink or two out at the bar after a game on the rare occasion he’d go out with his teammates. In the off season, he’d allow himself a little more to drink, but this was always at bars where he’d have shots or beer. He never took the time to learn about wines. 

“I’m not one of those people who thinks you can only drink reds with certain meals and whites with other meals, so choose whatever,” Grant said. “You’re not going to disappoint me, it’s all wine I’ve bought for myself.” 

Kent pulled a bottle of red wine out randomly, “This looks good,” he said, looking at the label. It said pinot noir, which sounded pretty sophisticated. 

“Good taste,” Grant said approvingly. 

Grant got them set up in the dining room, serving food and pouring wine. Kent put his napkin in his lap (his mother would be so proud he remembered that) and started in on his salad. 

“Are you OK?” Grant asked. 

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re much quieter than at Pete’s party.” 

Kent wondered how clean he should come and reluctantly admitted, “I haven’t been on a date in...well, never.” 

“What?”

“Like, not a proper date.” 

“Oh shit,” Grant said. “OK, well I can understand that. You’ve got your hockey career, and it’s hard enough to date with that, but I imagine being gay adds a whole other level of difficulty.”

“Exactly,” Kent said. “It’s too hard.” 

“Well, listen. I don’t want you to be nervous. Don’t think of this as a date. Think of this as just having dinner and not worrying about what it could lead to.” 

“Yeah,” Kent nodded. “I can do that. Hey, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me at that party,” he pointed to his face, where the swelling had gone down but both eyes still had visible bruising. 

“It’s what I do,” Grant grinned. 

The conversation flowed much easier after Grant put him at ease. Even though Kent had felt that Grant was out of his league, he learned that Grant wasn’t arrogant about his voracious reading habits. In fact, he was a little embarrassed that his bookishness sometimes kept him from hanging out with actual people. 

He asked Kent about his childhood and Kent told him about growing up in Buffalo, with a single mom and an older sister and how close they were, and how tight money had been, but his mom did everything in her power to keep him in hockey even as it got more expensive. 

“I was recruited by NCAA teams,” he said. “But it made much more sense to go into professional hockey. I couldn’t pay off my mom’s house with a scholarship like I could NHL money.”

Kent learned about Grant’s idyllic childhood in St. Paul, with a barber father and a teacher mother. He and Pete had both grown up playing hockey. “I was better than Pete,” Grant said. He wasn’t bragging, he sounded completely matter of fact. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

“I didn’t think there was room for a gay player,” Grant said. 

“Shit,” Kent said. “I’m sorry.” 

Grant shrugged. “I was better than Pete, but he really did love it more than I did. I don’t know that I would have had what it takes to make it professionally. And I love what I do now. But anyway, didn’t you ever have that thought? That it’d be impossible to keep playing?” 

Kent shrugged. “I was a late bloomer, I guess,” he admitted. “By the time I admitted to myself that I was into guys my name was already known as a potential NHL draftee. It was too late to quit, and I wouldn’t have anyway.” He paused, realizing how that sounded. “Not that I blame you for making the choice,” he added quickly. “Hockey was a bigger part of my identity. It still is.” 

“I guess we’re just different,” Grant said. “But that’s fine, right?”

“Sure,” Kent said. He’d hate to go out on a date with a replica of himself, and he definitely wouldn’t ever date another hockey player. 

The subject was changed and both the wine and the conversation flowed freely. Grant was so easy to talk to and Kent realized what he’d been missing out on by not going on dates. 

After dinner, they started watching TV, Kent going through Grant’s Netflix queue so he could compare tastes in shows. (They both liked Stranger Things and Orange is the New Black, and both had given up on Hemlock Grove. They completely disagreed on Kimmy Schmidt, with Kent hating it and Grant loving it. Kent could overlook that.) 

Kent leaned into Grant and it wasn’t long until they were kissing, the remote laying forgotten next to Kent’s legs as he crawled into Grant’s lap. Grant reached his hands up the back of Kent’s shirt, stroking the skin on his back lightly. He pulled back from the kiss momentarily, “We can take this slower if you want.” 

Kent smiled a little, and played with the hair just above the nape of Grant’s neck. “I don’t know...what do people who go on actual dates do?” He kissed Grant again. 

Grant shrugged a little. “People do whatever they want, I guess.” 

Kent leaned back and looked Grant in the eye. “Yeah, but like I said. I’ve never been on a real, proper date before. Do people hook up on dates? Is that a mature thing to do?”

Grant laughed a little. “Honestly? Some people don’t even kiss on the first date. Some people fuck on the first date. There’s no right or wrong as long as everyone consents.” 

Kent kissed Grant deeply, running his hands up the front of Grant’s shirt and petting the layer of chest hair. Kent loved chest hair and had always wished he had more of it on himself. “Well, I’m consenting,” he murmured. 

“Mmm,” Grant said. He reached up and pulled his glasses off and put them on the floor next to the couch. Then he leaned in, kissed Kent hard, while pulling their bodies closer together. 

It was the best night Kent remembered having in a very long time. 

____

The following week, Kent and Grant went out to dinner with Nollie and Patrice. “You can call me Pete off the ice,” Nollie said.

“And you can call me Kent instead of Parse off the ice.”

Nollie made a face. “Never mind.” 

Kent had been right to not want to go out by himself with Grant. They were at a high end steakhouse and the presence of two Aces garnered some attention. The following day, their pictures were featured on a blog that followed local celebrities. But, just like Grant had said, everyone assumed that Nollie and his wife were simply enjoying dinner with their brother and their friend, without a thought that the brother and friend were together in any way. 

But it was  _ fun. _ It was fun in a way that Kent had never realized things could be. Going on a double date with friends was just something he thought he’d never get a chance to have. 

He wanted to go out every night, but of course Grant worked at the hospital. And within a few weeks, Kent and Nollie started pre-season. 

Still, he and Grant got together whenever they could and when they couldn’t they’d Facetime and text. 

Kent was starting to look at what his life had become, with a boyfriend and having someone he looked forward to seeing on his days off, and it made him realize what he’d been missing out on before. 

Weeks earlier, he never would have said he was lonely. He would have insisted to everyone (and even to himself) that he liked being by himself. But this? This was better. 

Kent didn’t want to get in the habit of comparing Grant to the only other relationship he’d ever had, because that was stupid. He and Jack had been seventeen and eighteen years old. Kent was a twenty four year old man, and Grant was thirty. What they had couldn’t be more different than what he and Jack had. 

And with Grant, who was as stable as a person could get, Kent knew he didn’t have to worry about it ending in as dramatic a fashion as it had with Jack. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of contentment. 


	2. The hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent is not ready for the prospect of even thinking about other people know about him and Grant.

It took Kent until well into the season to realize exactly how much Grant means to him. 

The Aces played the Coyotes the third week of the season. As Kent left the ice after warmups, Shane Jefferson, who he usually would hookup with when their teams played, was skating on and pulled him aside. “Coming to my place tonight?” he asked quietly. 

Though Kent and Grant had never discussed being exclusive, it was in this moment Kent realized that he wanted to be. He had literally no desire to go back to Shane Jefferson’s house for a quick lay. “Sorry,” Kent murmured. “I’ve got a guy I’m kind of serious about.”

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, “No shit. Good for you man,” and he patted Kent on the shoulder and skated off. 

Kent told Grant about it when they facetimed that night, Kent from his hotel room, Grant on a fifteen minute break at the hospital. He looked tired, but happy to be talking to Kent. “I guess we never did have this conversation. I’m in if you are.”

“Totally,” Kent agreed. He hesitated. “I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was eighteen,” he warned. “And that….well. It didn’t end well.”

“Bad breakup?”

“No,” Kent answered. After more than two months together, he finally told Grant the full story. “It was Jack Zimmermann. I was the one who found him after he OD’ed and I thought he was dead. But he wasn’t and he went to rehab, and I got drafted in his place, and we didn’t talk to me for a couple of years. And even now things are...I don’t know. We talk, but I’m not sure I’d even call him a friend.” He tried to keep his voice matter-of-fact because talking about Zimms was something he usually only did in therapy. 

“Jesus, Kent. Why’d you never tell me that? Jack Zimmermann?” 

Kent shrugged. “I’m telling you now.” 

“Look,” Grant said. “You’re not under any obligation to tell me every single thing about your past. And finding your almost dead boyfriend would be super traumatic for anyone, and I know you probably talk about it in therapy. But you  _ can _ tell me, right? If you want?”

“I know.” 

“In the interest of fairness, I’ll tell you why I broke up with Jeremy.” Jeremy was the guy Grant had dated for five years. The one Nollie had warned Kent about. 

“Why?” Kent asked. 

“I found out he cheated on me.”

“That sucks.” Kent said, even though he already knew that. 

“It gets worse.”

“Yeah?”

Grant sighed and looked around to make sure he was alone in the doctor’s breakroom. “I found out when I ended up with both crabs and gonorrhea, and I knew  _ I _ hadn’t been sleeping with anyone else.” 

Kent put his hands in front of his mouth. 

“Don’t laugh,” Grant warned. 

“I’m not,” Kent said, through a smile. “It’s just, bro. That sucks.” 

“I was a resident at the time,” Grant said. “I was diagnosed by the attending who was my  _ boss. _ ” 

“Holy Shit,” Kent said, and he actually did start laughing a little. 

“So there. You got my breakup history and my STI history in one fell swoop.” 

“You want my STI history?” Kent asked. 

“Actually, I do.” They’d never discussed, but had been using condoms every time they fucked. 

“Clean as a whistle,” Kent said. 

“Good.” 

“Jack and I were each others’ firsts, so even though we didn’t use anything, we were fine. I always used condoms with Shane and Brian, because I have  _ no _ idea who else they were fucking besides each other.” 

They talked for a few more minutes before Grant had to get back to work. “When do you land in L.A?” He asked Kent. They had a game against the Kings in two days. 

“Tomorrow afternoon. I should be in my hotel room by 1 o’clock.” 

“I’ll call you then.”

“Cool, talk to you tomorrow.” Kent closed his laptop and tried to suppress a grin. He  _ really  _ liked this guy. 

_______

Kent and Grant had weird schedules. Kent, of course, had away games that could take him on the road for anywhere from two nights to two weeks. Grant had a doctor’s schedule. He worked four twelve hour shifts in four days, then had three days off. Then forty-eight straight hours at the hospital. He would sleep, shower and eat at the hospital in those two straight days. But then he had the next five nights off. His days off occasionally included time when he was on-call. 

When the Aces played in Minnesota, where Grant and Nollie had grown up, it happened to coincide with Grant’s five day stretch with no work. Grant was coming to the game, under the auspice of watching his brother, but really he’d be staying in Kent’s hotel room. 

As the plane landed in Minnesota, the Manager stood in front of his players, “A couple of announcements before we get off,” he said. “First, we had to switch some room assignments because the hotel has a big conference going on and they overbooked their rooms. Sorry, but those of you who usually have singles are going to double up. Parson, you and Nolan are together. Smith and St. Pierre are together, and Jennings and Bucek are together.”

Kent and Nollie looked at each other, eyes widened. A single room was one of the benefits of being Captain and Assistant. Normally he wouldn’t even mind having to share with Nollie, but this time? He had planned on spending his free time fucking Nollie’s brother. 

The GM continued, “Now listen. The conference that’s going on this weekend is some kind of toy thing - American Girl Dolls. So there will be children at the hotel, and a lot of them. There will be children in the hall, children in the restaurant, children in the lobby. Please, try to watch your language, eh?” There was some general laughter, a few  _ No fucking ways _ , and some  _ Oh shits. _

Kent whispered to Nollie, “Um. Your brother is supposed to be staying in my room.”

Nollie stifled a laugh, “What?” 

“Yeah,” Kent said. “He’s coming to the game, supposedly to surprise you in your hometown, but we were planning on...you know...having a night in a hotel room.”  __

Nollie put his hand on Kent’s shoulder, “I hate to cockblock you guys, but it sounds like I’m going to be in your room. I’ll do what I can to make myself scarce for a while.” 

Kent nodded, “Appreciate it.” Kent was grateful Pete and Grant were such close brothers. He got out his phone and texted Grant with the news. 

They’d gotten in early. The game wasn’t until the following evening. The team had a late morning skate at the arena, but then the players were free until they were needed the next day.

Grant told Kent he had somewhere to take him. Kent met Grant a few blocks from the hotel and climbed into the rental car. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see,” Grant said. He drove easily through the streets of St. Paul, having grown up here, and going to both undergrad and medical school. It only took about fifteen minutes, before they were pulling up in front of an older, but still nice, section of town. “Right there,” Grant pointed. 

Kent looked out his window. It was an old store-front barbershop, with the swirling pole and everything. The window had “Nolan’s Barbershop” In big gold letters on the window and in smaller script under that, “Since 1910.” “Is that your dad’s old barbershop?” Kent smiled. 

The Nolan patriarch had been a third-generation barber. He was only forty-seven years old, and in the middle of giving a haircut when he’d had a sudden heart attack and died. His two sons, Pete and Grant, didn’t go into the barber trade. Pete had just had his first NHL game days prior to his father’s death, and Grant was in his Sophomore year at University of Minnesota. Their mother owned the business for a few years after that, renting out the chairs to other area barbers. Eventually one of those barbers bought her out, though he continued calling it Nolan’s Barbershop. 

“Let’s go in,” Grant said. “I need a haircut.” 

“Do they still know you in there?” Kent asked as they exited the car. 

“Sure,” Grant said. 

Sure enough, when he walked in the empty barbershop, an older man looked up from his newspaper and smiled. He was a short man with grey hair and black framed glasses. “Grant Nolan! How are you!”

“Good,” Grant said, leaning down to hug the man. “I’m in town and I need a haircut.” 

“Of course.” The man turned to Kent, “I’m Ira Clevenger,” he introduced himself. 

Kent shook his hand. “Kent Parson.” 

Ira looked him up and down. “Grant is this your fella?” Kent had to smile at the phrase. 

Grant eyed Kent momentarily, “No, Ira. This is one of Pete’s teammates. The Aces are playing the Wild tomorrow. Kent and I are just friends.”

“Well, any friend of the Nolan boys is a friend of mine!” Ira boomed. 

Grant situated himself in the barber chair, and Ira started clipping. They got involved in a conversation about people Kent didn’t know, so he stopped paying attention and glanced at the photos that were on the wall and got lost in thought. He hated turning Grant into a liar. He wanted Ira Clevenger to know that Kent was, in fact, “Grant’s fella.”

But even more, Kent wanted people to know to ask  _ him  _ about “his fella.” It was so warm and homey and no one seemed to care that Grant was gay and might have a fella. Kent hadn’t even told his mom and his sister about Grant because he didn’t want to let down his guard and think everyone would be as supportive as they would be, or as supportive as the Ira Clevengers of the world. 

“Is this your dad?” Kent asked, pointing to one picture of a man who looked an awful lot like Grant. “Sorry,” he apologized for interrupting whatever Ira and Grant had been talking about.

“That’s my dad’s dad,” Grant said. He pointed to a picture on another wall, “That’s my dad. Me and Pete in the chair in front of him.” 

Kent took off his Aces snapback to get a closer look at the picture. Their dad actually favored Peter more than Grant. He smiled to see the two boys, about five and six at the time, shoved into a single barber chair with their arms around each other. Pete was missing his top two teeth. “Cute.”

“Your hair’s looking a little wild, Kent,” Ira said helpfully. “Would you like a haircut?”

Kent laughed, “There’s no taming this,” he said, running his hands through the hair that was his nemesis. “My mother always said you can’t tell where one cowlick ends and the others begin.” It had been a source of frustration to his mom when he was a kid, and as an adult it’d turned into Kent’s own frustration. He dealt with it mostly by ignoring it.

“Sit,” Ira said, patting the seat. He inspected Kent’s hair carefully, pulling curls and holding them down. “If you crop it a little closer on the back and sides, that should help. The top is a little more uniform.” 

“Sure,” Kent said. “Let’s try that.” 

“You want an undercut?” Grant asked. 

“Is that what that’s called?” Kent asked. He didn’t know - for God’s sake as rich as he was, he still went to Supercuts. 

“You’ll like it,” Ira insisted, and didn’t wait for an answer as he snapped the cape around Kent’s neck and got to work. 

After the barber shop, where Kent had to promise to print out a picture of him in his new haircut and sign it and send it back to Ira, Grant drove Kent around to where he and Pete had grown up. It was a small brick rancher with a modest backyard. There were bikes in the yard and a woman with a baby on her hip talking to a neighbor. “That’s Mrs. Willard,” Grant said. “Mom sold our house to them, but they didn’t have any kids at the time.” 

He didn’t stop, but took a turn at the next corner and showed Kent his elementary school, and a little down the street the Junior and Senior High schools. 

They made their way back to the hotel. When they walked in, the GM was in the lobby, his face in his laptop and he looked up, confused to see Kent standing there with Grant. He came towards them, “Aren’t you Pete Nolan’s brother?” 

“Yes sir,” Grant said, shaking his hand. “Grant Nolan.” 

“Grant came to see Nollie play,” Kent said.

The GM’s face fell, “Ah. I’m sorry you’ve got to share a hotel room with this guy,” he said, pointing to Kent. “We had to double up.” 

“I’ve heard,” Grant said. “It’s fine.” 

“Maybe there’s another hotel-”

Grant cut him off, “No it’s really fine. I’m here to spend time with my brother. I don’t mind sharing a room.” 

“If you say so,” the GM said. “I’ve heard Kent snores though.”

“Hey!” Kent said, pretending to be affronted. 

Grant just laughed, “I’ve heard that too.” 

The elevator door closed and Kent said, “I do not snore!”

“If you say so.” Grant quirked his eyebrow like he knew better, which Kent supposed Grant was the one most likely to know if he snored. 

Nollie was sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone when Kent and Grant walked in. The room was big with two queen beds. Nollie looked up, “Nice haircut,” he said to Kent. 

“Ira Clevenger cut my hair,” Kent said, looking in the mirror. He had to admit, Ira had been right. It was a different look, but he thought it suit him well. 

“You took him to the barbershop?” Nollie asked Grant, sounding incredulous. 

“Yeah,” Grant said. “Ira wanted to know if Kent was my fella.” He pulled Kent to his side and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Kent shoved him away, not entirely comfortable with PDA in front of Nollie. 

“What’d you say?” Nollie asked. 

“I told Ira no, that Kent was your teammate.” 

“And he believed that you are just taking random teammates of mine out for a haircut at dad’s barber shop?” 

Grant paused, “Yeah, he believed it.” 

Kent looked up, “He did believe it. Right?” He hadn’t thought for a moment that Ira wouldn’t have believed Grant, but as soon as Nollie pointed out how weird it was, suddenly Kent wasn’t so sure.” 

“Uh-huh.” Nollie said. “Listen, this wasn’t easy for me to do, but Bucek’s wife is here and I convinced her to go to that American Doll convention thing so I can get some dolls for Piper and Paige.”

“Why Bucek’s wife?” Kent asked. 

Nollie gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t think it’d be a good look for a single grown man to go to a dolly convention where there are lots of little girls running around, do you?” 

“I hadn’t thought of it.” 

“OK, well, I’m meeting her in the lobby in a few minutes. That gives you guys about an hour because I don’t plan on staying at a babydoll convention any longer than I have to. Just please be finished with whatever it is you’re doing by the time I get back.” 

Kent and Grant looked at each other and grinned. 

“Thanks, Pete.” 

“Yeah, thanks Nollie. I’ll buy the dolls for you, to pay you back.” 

Pete snorted, “No. But next time you come over, you’re the one who has to sit on the floor and play with Piper and Paige and their new dolls.”

“But that’s worse than paying for them,” Kent said.

“I know.” Nollie gave him an evil grin and let himself out the door. 

Grant and Kent looked at each other for a quick moment before they both kicked off their shoes and jumped onto the bed. 

Nollie gave them an hour, but it didn’t take that long. It could have, but the idea of Grant’s brother walking in on them made them both move quickly. They fell into bed together, shedding their clothes on the way. Grant was on his back and Kent astride him, kissing him deeply, running his hands over Grant’s chest, and down further until he was grasping his cock. 

“Mmm,” Grant hummed approvingly. “Just like that.” 

Kent jerked him off, and Grant came with a gasp and a small moan. It was a sound that Kent had grown to love the last few months. Grant returned the favor, leaving Kent nearly breathless as he came hard into Grant’s mouth. 

They looked at the clock and laughed. Nollie telling them to be done in an hour made them work quick, and they even had enough time left to shower together. 

By the time Nollie got back - and he’d actually given them closer to an hour and a half - Kent and Grant were in the bed, both wearing shorts. Nollie was carrying several bright pink bags. “I can’t believe how much these fucking dolls cost,” he complained as he walked in. He glanced at them and added, “Thank you for putting clothes on.” 

“You’re welcome,” Kent said. “We considered not doing that.” 

Nollie snorted. “Grant,” he said. “You need to talk to Mom. She called me a little bit ago and didn’t even know you were coming here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t tell her,” Grant said, as though it was obvious. “She might have wanted to come along, and I wanted to spend time with Kent.” 

“Listen. It took me a minute talking to her to realize she doesn’t know about you seeing Kent.”

“Fuck, you didn’t tell her did you?” Grant asked. Kent’s stomach dropped. 

“No, but why haven’t you?”

Kent answered for Grant, “Nollie, I’m closeted. I’m super-duper closeted.” 

“Yeah, but our mom isn’t going to tell anyone.” 

“C’mon, Pete. I’m not saying anything until Kent wants me to,” Grant said loyally. 

“So you’re just gonna ignore her on your days off?” Nollie asked. “She’s going to get her feelings hurt.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt her feelings,” Grant said. “I’ve got my reasons for not telling her, one of which is that I don’t want to hear any shit.” 

“Mom wouldn’t give you shit, what are you talking about?” 

Grant hesitated and looked at Kent. Kent could tell there was something Grant didn’t want to say in front of him. “What is it?” Kent asked curiously. 

Grant sighed and said delicately. “Mom told me once that I should never date a closeted guy. She said it wouldn’t be worth it.” 

Kent frowned. It’s not that something like this hadn’t crossed his mind since he and Grant got together. The imbalance of one partner in a relationship being out and the other closeted was soemthing that could definitely make things harder. But Grant had always been so quick to assure Kent that he didn’t need to jump out of the closet on his behalf. “Why’d she say that?” Kent asked carefully. 

Nollie interrupted, “She’d understand. There are circumstances here.” 

“There are  _ always _ circumstances when someone’s closeted,” Grant said. “I understand Kent’s circumstances, but other people have perfectly valid reasons for not coming out.” 

“I just meant she’ll understand Kent’s circumstances,” Nollie pointed out. “Grant, it’s  _ mom. _ You can’t not tell her.”

“Of course I can,” Grant said. “Look, I love mom, but she really showed her hands when she told me that.” 

Kent watched the interaction between brothers carefully. Nollie was his teammate, his assistant captain, but he needed to butt the fuck out of his private life with Grant. “Nollie,” he said quietly, “No. I’m not ready for that.” 

“It’s just my mom,” Nollie persisted. 

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s probably impossible for you to understand, but this is something I  _ need  _ to keep small and to myself for now. Right now, with just the three of us knowing? It feels perfect and I’m not ready to have it become any bigger yet. It won’t be forever, but just for now.” 

Kent could tell Nollie wanted to argue further, but knew that it was probably best to keep quiet. Kent couldn't even explain it. He knew he wanted to be closeted for the time being, and had no plans in the future to come out. And he also knew that at some point, other people would have to know - namely Grant’s mom as well as his own mom and sister. And even more importantly, his therapist. But he just wasn’t ready, for reasons he didn’t know or care to think too deeply about, to let anyone else into their little circle yet. He was enjoying the time with Grant, and having it feel like a wonderful secret. His being closeted didn’t feel like a burden for the first time in his life, because just having Grant there felt so freeing. 

“What about your own mom?” Nollie asked. He sounded almost concerned. 

“I’ll tell her eventually,” Kent said. “If I tell her now, it’ll be madness. She’ll be a little too happy and want to jump on the first plane to Vegas to meet Grant.” 

“Aw,” Grant said. “That’s sweet.” 

“It’s overbearing is what it is,” Kent answered. “Her and Kelly never shut the fuck up about me meeting someone. They worry about my ‘loneliness,’” he scoffed and used finger quotes on the word loneliness. He shouldn’t have scoffed though, Kent had been desperately lonely up until a couple of months earlier. 

“Then they’d be happy for you, right?” Nollie asked. 

“Yeah, but I’m not ready for that. Chill, okay? It won’t be forever.” 

“Sure, I’m not trying to be pushy. I just,” Nollie shrugged. “I didn’t think Grant wouldn’t have said something to mom.” 

Kent’s mother wound up calling him later that night, after the Aces had won their game. Kent and Grant were in one bed, Nollie in the other and they were all scrolling on their phones while Diners, Drive-ins and Dives played on the TV. Kent’s phone rang, “It’s my mom,” he said. 

He accepted the call while Grant turned the volume down. “Hi mom.” 

“Did you get your haircut?”

Kent ran his fingers through his hair and laughed a little, “Yeah. I went to a new barber who said this would help keep my hair looking neater.” 

Grant, eyes on his phone, smiled. 

“Kelly told me that’s called an undercut.” 

“That’s what Nollie said. I didn’t know.”

“Kent,” his mom said, sounding a little exasperated. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Do you know what Kelly told me?”

“What?” he asked, feeling defensive even though he didn’t know what was going on. 

“She told me an undercut is a gay thing.”

“What?” he said for the third time. “No it’s not. Wait, is it?” 

“So you aren’t making a statement.” 

Kent pressed his fingers into his closed eyes slightly. “No, this barber just said it’d work. Oh, Kelly is just bullshitting you. It’s fine.” 

“It looks good on you,” she said.

“Thank you. That’s all you needed to say.” 

“And your goal looked real nice too, Kent.” 

“I can’t believe I got a goal and an assist and you called to ask me about my haircut,” Kent complained. Both Grant and Nollie laughed at that and Kent flipped them off. 

“Who’s in the room with you?”

“Pete,” Kent said. “We had to double up because the hotel was overbooked.” 

“Tell him I said hi.”

Kent pulled the phone away from his face, “My mom says hi.” 

“Hi Mrs. Parson!” Nollie said from his bed. Grant kept quiet.

As usual, Kent’s mom called our, “You can call me Anita!” 

“Mom, just let him call you Mrs. Parson.” 

She changed the subject. “Kent, do you remember our neighbors Vicki and Craig? They had six kids in that little house?”

“What’s this about? Yes, I remember them. Their oldest son Tom was a dick and used to harrass Kelly on the school bus.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” 

“Well what about them?” 

“Tom came out.”

“Jesus Christ mom, I’m hanging up. You are not setting me up with every gay guy you hear about, OK? And definitely not with Tom who pinched my sister’s ass when he was sixteen.”

“All right, not Tom obviously.” 

“No one, Mom.” 

Anita sighed, “All right. I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you,” Kent sighed. 

“The real reason I called was about me and Kelly flying out to see some home games this season.” Anita and Kelly came out to Vegas at least once a season for a few days to watch Kent play, and they always went when the Aces played the Sabres in Buffalo. 

“Check the schedule and let me know,” he said. “You can come anytime.”

“I’ll do that. Love you Kent.”

“Love you too, mom.” 

Kent hung up and looked up to see both Grant and Kent looking very amused. He threw his phone to the side. “Did you guys know an undercut is supposedly a gay haricut?” he demanded. 

“No,” Nollie said at the same time Grant was like, “Uh-huh.” 

Nollie and Kent looked at Grant, “You didn’t tell me!”

“You’re gay. I thought you knew.” Grant was laughing now. “It’s not true anyway, it’s just a stereotype thing. No one is going to look at your haircut and think you’re gay.” Kent ran his fingers through his hair and Grant continued, “It looks good on you, stop worrying. I want to hear more about this guy your mom wanted to set you up with. Do I have some competition?” 

Kent laughed, “No way. No fuckin’ way. This guy was such an asshole. The whole family was just,” Kent shook his head. He hated using the word trashy, because he was raised in the same poor neighborhood and he’d be calling himself and his mom trashy. “They were not classy,” he finally said. “Gun nuts, beer bellies, lots of cars on the lawn, and just...God. So much screaming at each other. The oldest son, second oldest kid, was a serial sexual harasser of teenage girls in the neighborhood, Kelly included.” 

“This is the guy your mom wanted you to go out with?” Nollie asked from the other bed. 

“She didn't know it was like that. She worked a lot. Kelly and I were latchkey kids and we saw more of that family than she did. I guess mom just now found out this guy is gay and….” he drifted off and shrugged. 

“Decided he’d be a good son-in-law?” Nollie asked. 

“Something like that.” 

The conversation with his mom had been a pretty typical conversation with her, as far as those things go. But he couldn’t help but think about how much she just  _ wanted  _ him to be in a relationship. She worried so much about him, always had. She was a worrier by nature, not even allowing Kent to buy her a new house with his hockey money, but rather paying off the mortgage on the house he’d been raised in and which she had mortgaged to the hilt to get him through Juniors. Maybe letting her in on Grant wouldn’t be the  _ worst _ thing. 

But he wasn’t going to say anything yet. No reason for Nollie to feel like he’d been right all along. 

That night, as they were falling asleep, Kent waited until it sounded like Pete was asleep in the next bed. Kent was lying behind Grant, spooning him, and he whispered, “You awake?”

Grant whispered, “Yeah.” 

Kent leaned up on his elbow so he could talk quietly in Grant’s ear. He lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your mom.” 

Grant rolled over so he was facing Kent. “What? What are you sorry for?” 

“I’m sorry I’m turning you into a liar.” 

Grant laughed quietly. “Do you think I tell my mom everything?” 

“Well, no. But a relationship is something you should be able to tell her.” 

Grant ran his hands over Kent’s arm. “Babe. Let me tell you something. Pete is the mama’s boy out of the two of us, OK? He’s the one who tells her everything.”

Kent laughed a little. It was so strange to see his Assistant Captain in a different light. “OK, if you’re sure.” 

“Hey. When I tell you there is no rush out of the closet, I want you to know I mean that in every sense. I’m a guy who plays it close to the chest anyway, OK? There are a lot of things my mom doesn’t know and it isn’t going to kill her to be out of the loop for a while.” 

Kent leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Grant’s forehead. “If you’re sure.” 

“I am,” Grant said, pulled Kent’s head toward him for a longer kiss. 

A few moments later, Pete spoke up in a tired voice from the other bed. “I can hear you guys kissing and I need you to stop it with me right here.” 

Grant and Kent grinned at each other in the dark as they pulled back from each other. Kent waited for it to sound like Pete had fallen asleep again and he poked Grant lightly in the side. 

“Hmm?” Grant asked, poking him back. 

“Hey,” Kent said. “I think I might love you.” It was so much easier to say here in the dark where he didn’t have to see Grant’s expression. 

Grant snuggled in closer to Kent. “I think I might love you too.” 


	3. Mothers Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent's teammate acting like an asshole makes Kent decide to meet Grant's mother.

Kent couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so happy. He had a guy and his team was doing well. It was more than he ever thought he’d be able to have in the NHL. From the time he was sixteen, he figured having a boyfriend was just going to have to wait, or worse, not happen at all, while he was pro. 

But he met Grant, who had been so patient and so good about him staying in the closet. Kent wanted to believe he’d feel this way forever, but he knew that something would come along to mess it up. 

What came along was his teammate, Dillon Gage. Dillon was young, a couple of years younger than Kent, and was only in his second year in the league. 

After a particularly tough overtime loss in St. Louis, the Aces were changing in the locker room. Everyone was quiet, still trying to process how they lost when they’d gone into the third period up by three points. Then Dillon got a text from his girlfriend breaking up with him. 

Everyone crowded around, commiserating and trying to make him feel better. This was the girl he’d been dating since he was in high school. Dillon was sure they were going to get married, and he was near tears at the breakup. Then he said the ten words that drove Kent over the fucking edge. “I wish she hadn’t found out about those other girls.” 

Kent went from sympathy to annoyance in a split second, “What?” he asked. “What other girls?” 

Dillon shrugged, “Just some girls I fool around with when we’re on the road.” A few of the guys laughed a little, some nodded knowingly. But Kent stared at Dillon. 

“We all have ‘em,” Carlson said knowingly. Kent bristled because Carly was fucking  _ married.  _ “C’mon, Cap. You hardly ever go out to the bar with us, we all know you have a few.” 

Kent ignored Carly and said bitterly to Dillon, “I’m so glad she dumped you.” 

Dillon looked angry, but Kent was his captain and he couldn’t exactly say anything. “Come on, Parse. You know how it is. I see those stories about you and all those women, you even dated Britney Spears!” The Britney thing was a rumor that wasn’t true, but that Kent was happy to let people believe. 

“I’m not _in a relationship_ with any of those women. I’m not cheating on anyone.” Kent silently thanked whatever gods were listening that his teammates were too stupid and heteronormative to look any closer at his personal life. 

“I know it’s not nice, but we’re on the road and surrounded by girls….”

Kent cut him off, “I don’t fuckin’ care! I’m glad she dumped you. I met her at Nollie’s party last year and she was sweet. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, you don’t deserve her if that’s how it’s gonna be.” Dillon’s girlfriend was one of the few people who’d seen Kent take that volleyball to the face and had searched him out to make sure he was OK later in the night. She was cute in that healthy girl-next-door sort of way, and was a nursing student at UNLV.

Dillon looked around at his teammates, the ones who just a minute earlier were chuckling at him talking about all the girls they could get by being athletes. None of them wanted to stand up to Kent, their captain, and take Dillon’s side. 

“Sounds like you learned a tough lesson,” Kent said, and he turned and walked to take a shower. 

“Didn’t know Parser was such a fuckin’ stick up the ass feminist,” he heard Carly say as he walked away. 

Under the spray of hot water, Kent fumed. Fucking Dillon. Fucking Carly. Just because they were straight, they could be open about being a cheater and still get sympathy. But Kent, who was in a  _ committed  _ relationship that he had no intention of stepping out on, had to keep it quiet? 

It was unfair, and it was unfair in a way that Kent hadn’t realized was going to bother him quite this much. Kent dug his fingertips hard into his scalp as he washed his hair. Fuck them. That’s all he could think.  _ Fuck Dillon. Fuck Carly _ . Fuck every straight guy who’s ever existed. 

He was the first one on the bus to get back to the airport and he pulled out his phone and texted Grant.  _ I fucking hate my sport sometimes.  _

Grant was working and Kent didn’t expect an answer back so quickly, but within a minute, came along,  _ I saw the loss. I couldn’t watch but was keeping track of the score. I’m sorry, it sounds like a tough break.  _ He must have been between patients. 

Kent almost smiled. His boyfriend, a doctor in a busy emergency room, cared enough to keep updated on the games that he couldn’t watch. He hadn’t texted about the game, in fact his anger at Dillon had made him temporarily forget the horrible third period they’d just had. He actually just realized that as Captain, he was supposed to talk to his team, tell them they’d bounce back, that all teams had games like this and how they responded would show the world who they really were, blah, blah, blah.

He texted back,  _ It’s not really about the game, though that sucked too. Will tell you more when I get home.  _

This time, the response didn’t come, and Kent assumed that Grant was with a patient. The rest of the team trickled on board, Nollie taking his usual seat next to Kent. “I talked to them,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Kent said. 

“You want to tell me what that was about?” 

Kent bit the inside of his lip and shook his head briefly, “Not right now.”

Nollie was a good teammate, but an even better friend, because he accepted that answer immediately. Kent put his ear buds in, and began listening to his audio book. After seeing so many queer history books at Grant’s Kent had asked him for recommendations on books about queer history that were, frankly, very basic. “I always avoided learning anything about the gay past,” Kent told him one night. 

“Why’s that?” 

“I didn’t want to get so full of Pride that I’d decide to come out, out of some sort of weird misguided need to be the first and be a good example. That’d just make my life harder than it needs to be.” 

Grant laughed, “OK, but these will make you full of Pride.” 

So Kent was listening to a history of the Stonewall riots (Grant was aghast that Kent had never even heard of them) and finally taking the time to claim queer history as his own. Even if he wasn’t out, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little proud.

And maybe it was the pride from listening to the book. Maybe it was the residual anger he was feeling towards Dillon. But Kent pulled out his phone and texted Grant again.  _ Maybe it’s time for me to meet your mom.  _

He paused and sent another text.  _ I mean as your boyfriend. I’ve met your mom before.  _

When they got to the airport, they had to wait a while to board their flight. They were headed to Calgary. Nollie pulled Kent aside. “You OK?”

Kent nodded. “I’ll be fine. The thing with Dillon just annoyed me.” 

“That he cheated?” 

“Well, that’s shity, but it wasn’t just that he cheated. It’s that he gets to be so open about his relationship and he fucks it up by cheating and gets to be so open about that. I can’t even be open about me and Grant watching three straight episodes of the Great British Baking Show a few nights ago.” 

“You know you’d have me, you’d have the front office support if you decided to-”

Kent cut him off. “No. Not an option. But I-uh- I did tell Grant I could maybe meet your mom? Like, meet her as his boyfriend?”

Kent had met Grant and Nollie’s mom years earlier. When Kent signed with Vegas, he was eighteen years old, a newly minted millionaire, and had no business living on his own. He’d lived with the Nolans for nearly two years before buying his condo. Grant wasn’t living in Vegas yet, but their mom had moved there from Minnesota just a few months earlier. Kent liked her. She was as warm as you’d expect an elementary school teacher to be, and she carried this huge tote bag and it was always full of books that she was in the middle of reading (Kent supposed that was where Grant got his reading habits from) and she had a habit of buying people books she thought they’d like. Once when Kent said he was going to get a cat as soon as he had his own place, Mrs. Nolan had gone out and bought him a cat care guide. It was a sweet gesture, and Kent still had the book, even though all of the information on cat care was available online for free. 

“Kent, that’s really great. Mom’ll be happy. She always liked you.” 

“I thought she thought I was a dumb jock.” 

Nollie laughed. “I think she did. But she loved you anyway. She raised me, and I’m a dumb jock too. She likes dumb jocks.” 

Kent sighed. “I’m not convinced this is a good idea.” 

They were called for boarding, Nollie laid a heavy hand on Kent’s shoulder. “I’ve got your back, man.” 

Once they got to Calgary, Kent had to repeat the whole story for a bleary-eyed Grant who had just gotten home from his forty-eight hour shift. 

“Babe, Dillon is a twenty-two year old shithead. And you’ve always complained about how Carly is. Don’t let them get to you.” 

“It’s not  _ them,”  _ Kent explained. “It’s the whole fucking situation. I just think it sucks.” 

“It definitely sucks. It sucks for you and me, it sucks for all the gay players, it sucks for Dillon’s poor girlfriend and Carly’s poor wife. I hate that this is how it is for you.” 

“I can’t complain.” 

“Yes you can.” 

“The money-”

Grant broke in. “The money is irrelevant. Everyone deserves to love who they want without fear of discrimination or violence. I know you make a lot of money. But you’re also in the public eye and that makes things more complicated, not simpler. But listen, meeting my mom is a big first step, and I think that’s enough for now.” 

“Maybe my mom and Kelly when they come to visit too?” Kent asked. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m following your lead here.” 

Kent nodded. Christ, did he love Grant. He didn’t know anything about having a boyfriend. He didn’t know if he said that he loved him too early, or if he waited too long. Grant was not only handsome and great in bed, but he was smart, and he knew about hockey, and he was kind and had this dry sense of humor and he was just so patient with Kent and all of Kent’s insecurities and neuroses. 

Grant was yawning. “Babe, I’m going to let you sleep,” Kent said. 

Grant nodded, “Sorry. I didn’t get as much sleep in as I normally do on my shift.” 

“I’ll be home in five days,” Kent said. He was missing out on all of Grant’s days off by being on the road. But they’d be able to have that night before he started his next shift at the hospital. He hated their schedules, but they were making it work. 

__________

There were moments when Kent felt a little too happy. 

It was a rare day off for both Kent and Grant. Kent had a home game the night before, and was given the full day off, while Grant was on his second of his three days off. Grant had gone to the game the night before, and had stayed at Kent’s. 

They were planning on having dinner with Nollie and Patrice that night, and Grant’s mother was going to be there. A couple of weeks earlier, Grant had told his mom he’d been dating someone. Then a few nights ago, he’d told her it was Kent. She was surprised, and though she hadn’t seen Kent since he was nineteen years old, she seemed happy that Grant found someone. 

Still, that didn’t make Kent any less nervous about having dinner with her. 

The middle of the day found the two of them cuddled up in Kent’s bed. They’d just had sex and were watching yet another episode of Great British Baking Show. Kit had jumped into bed and was lying on Grant’s stomach, purring loudly. Kent’s mind kept drifting. He’d sneak looks at Grant, who looked so interested in the show. And Kent felt this contentment fall over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. His team was doing well, he had a boyfriend, and he just really really liked this guy and this guy really liked him back. 

It felt almost too perfect. 

Kent knew that the other shoe was going to drop, and for days he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t want things to change. He wanted to preserve this feeling in this moment forever. And he couldn’t help worrying that meeting Grant’s mom was going to change things. 

Once he met her, he couldn’t very well un-meet her. 

Grant glanced at him, “What’re you thinking?” 

“Hm?” Kent asked. 

Grant paused Netflix. “I can tell Paul Hollywood isn’t keeping your attention. What’s going on?” 

Kent decided to downplay it. “I’m a little nervous about tonight.” 

“Aw, you don’t have to be.” 

Grant thought Kent had an average amount of nerves over meeting a significant other’s parent. And Kent didn't know how to explain to him that it was so much more. It was something that was making a dent into the perfect little circle of contentment that he’d been feeling. With every person that knew about them, the likelihood of Kent being outed was greater. Not that he thought Grant’s mom would out him. But once more people knew, more people could find out accidentally. 

“Mom already likes you,” Grant said. 

“Yeah.,” Kent said. “I’m just...you know. I’ve never had to meet the parents before.” 

“You’ll be great,” Grant assured him, leaning up and kissing his cheek. He must have seen something in Kent. There must have been an expression Kent was making that showed how much more anxiety he was having than what he was letting on, because Grant softened his voice, “Seriously, Babe. Is there something else?”

There was a whole lot else, but Kent didn’t really want to get into it. But he knew, when he got like this, it was probably time to go see his therapist. It’d been a while, his therapist didn’t even know about Grant. “I think I’m having anxiety,” Kent said. “But I think I’d rather talk to Beth about it. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Grant said. He still looked concerned. “Should we cancel tonight?”

“No,” Kent said quickly. “I’ll be OK. I’m not having, like, a panic attack or anything. Just some, um, I think Beth calls them ruminating thoughts.” Kent was suddenly proud of himself for recognizing that he was having these thoughts and needed to take care of it. “I’ll call her tomorrow,” he promised. 

“Should I be doing anything?” 

Kent smiled. “Just what you’re doing. And don’t get freaked out when I get a little too in my head.”

“I know athletes,” Grant assured him. “You’re  _ all _ too in your heads.” 

_________

Grant and Kent got to the Nolan’s house before his mom did. Kent’s nerves must have shown on his face, because Nollie was quick to get him a drink. “Relax, dude. It’s just my mom.” Nollie peeked in the oven at what was cooking. 

Kent gratefully took the beer that was offered to him and nodded. “She’ll understand though, right? About me being in the closet?” 

“Sure,” Nollie said. “She’s a good lady, you can trust her.” 

“She’s not going to give you shit about it, Kent,” Grant said, gently. “Even if she’s not crazy about me dating someone in the closet, she’s not going to  _ say _ anything.” Grant tried to wrap his arms around Kent, who ducked out of the way.

Patrice came in and said, “And if she seems unhappy and things start to go sideways, Pete and I can take the pressure off.” 

“How’s that?” Kent asked. 

“We’ll tell her I’m pregnant,” Patrice said, smiling. 

There was a beat, then Grant and Kent both hugged Patrice and Nollie, congratulating them. “Four kids?” Grant asked. “You guys know how this happens, right?”

Nollie punched Grant in the arm, “It was planned, asshole. We always planned on two, a gap, then another two.” 

“You’re gonna run out of P names,” Kent said. 

“Penelope or Preston,” Patrice said immediately. 

“Then that’s it,” Nollie said. “I’m getting snipped.” 

As if on cue, all three kids came running into the kitchen. Little PJ, who’d only been walking for about a month, trying so hard to keep up with his sisters. “They don’t know yet,” Patrice murmured to Kent and Grant, as Kent scooped PJ up and Piper jumped into Grant’s arms shouting, “Uncle Grant, my first grade teacher is SO NICE!” 

“Parse,” Paige pulled on his arm. “Daddy said you were going to play dolls with me. You need to come see them.” 

Kent shrugged at Grant and he allowed himself to be pulled along by the demanding six year old toward the playroom. Kent would have died for a playroom like this when he was growing up. The Nolan children didn’t want for toys, and smack in the middle at a little pink table, were the dolls that Nollie had picked up from the convention when they were in Minnesota. 

“You sit there,” Paige ordered him, and Kent sat at one side of the table. “You can play with these two dolls. This one is named Julie Banana and this one is named Madison Skittles.”

“Those are great names,” Kent said seriously. 

“These dolls come with names already, but we like to change them. Piper said we had to give them a people name with a food name.” She pointed to the other two dolls, “These are Emma Crackers and Rosalie Popcorn.”

Kent didn’t know how he kept a straight face. He also didn’t need to do much, Paige kept up a stream of constant chatter about the dolls and what they were doing, which was really just drinking tea and talking about their days. He would take an occasional sip of fake tea, and say “Oh yeah?” at certain points in her story, and oh my god, this girl could talk. He knew it already, Nollie always said Paige was the family chatterbox. 

After a while Grant cleared his throat and Kent looked up. He was standing in the doorway with his mother. Kent scrambled to his feet, “Hi, Mrs. Nolan. Nice to see you again.” He started to put his hand out to shake, but Mrs. Nolan pulled him in for a hug. 

“Kent. You know you can call me Caroline.” 

“Or you can call her Gramma,” Paige said from behind him. “Gramma come look at my new dolls. Me and Kent were having tea with them.”

“We actually came to fetch you all for dinner,” Caroline said, “But I’ll have tea with you and the dolls after dinner.”

“Kay,” Paige said agreeably and dashed out of the room, with Caroline on her heels. 

Grant and Kent walked more slowly toward the dining room, “If her grandkids like you, she’ll like you,” Grant said, placing his hand comfortingly on the small of Kent’s back. 

Kent probably shouldn’t have worried as much as he had. Dinner with Caroline was fine. Since they’d already met before, they got to skip over the boring getting to know you questions. Instead of asking what his parents do and if he has siblings, Caroline got to ask “How are your mom and sister doing?” 

Kent’s mom and his sister had come to help get him settled in Vegas at the Nolan’s house, and the next year had come out for a visit where they met Caroline. Kent got to tell her that his mom was fine, still had the same job as a secretary at the same law firm, that his sister had graduated college and was working as a social worker. 

He felt a little like he was being interviewed, but not in a bad way. Caroline Nolan was a comforting type woman, all wholesome apple pie. He also had Nollie, Patrice and Grant there, but really it was the presence of the little kids that made it so relaxed. Three kids required a lot of attention, and Kent could no more answer one of Caroline’s questions before Piper spilled her milk, PJ tried to climb out of his high chair, or Paige started singly loudly with her mouth full of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. 

The second the kids finished their food, Patrice shooed them out of the dining room and sent them to the playroom. The adults all looked at each other and laughed at the sudden quietness of the room. 

“Does anyone on the Aces know about you and Grant?” Caroline asked, taking a bite of lasagna. 

Beside him, Kent felt Grant stiffen a little. “Um, no. They don’t.” 

“Do you have a plan for that?”

“Mom,” Grant said, a small warning in his voice. 

“My plan is to not tell them,” Kent said flatly. 

Caroline opened her mouth, and Grant said, “Mom,” again. This time more forcefully. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Caroline said, patting Kent on the hand. “It must be terribly hard to have to hide like that.” 

“Yeah well. It's a professional sport. It’s easier to hide than it would be to not.” 

“We’re having another baby,” Patrice said quickly. Her eyes were wide and she looked at Kent and Grant like she wasn’t sure she should have done that. 

It took Caroline a second or two to realize they were on a different topic. “Oh. Oh!” she said, jumping out of her chair, she rounded the table to hug both Nollie and Patrice. “I’m so happy! When are you due?"

And just like that, the conversation about Kent and the Aces came to an end. Kent looked gratefully at Patrice who was now in conversation with her mother in law, talking about due dates and morning sickness. 

Grant reached over and squeezed his hand, and Kent squeezed back, trying to convey in one little hand squeeze that he was okay and that he loved Grant. 

By the time Caroline had gone back to the playroom to play with the little kids, the topic of Kent telling the Aces anything was forgotten. Nollie looked at Kent, “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

Kent knew that, he really did. Kent had known Nollie (and now Grant) long enough to know that Caroline Nolan was an absolute loving mother and would do anything for her kids. But that love could also be a little overbearing. Her husband had died when her children were nineteen and twenty years old, the ages when they should have been pulling away from her, and she had responded by holding on to them tighter. Her questions didn't bother him, because her being overbearing was how she showed her love.

But he still would rather her not have asked him that at all. Because he hated even thinking that coming out to his team was a possibility when he knew it wasn’t. He didn’t want anyone in his circle to even think it was a possibility. 

_______

The next morning, Kent awoke in his bed with Grant by his side. They didn’t get many chances to do this, wake up next to each other, what with their schedules. Because of his overnight shifts, Grant had been awake far too long the previous two days, and Kent knew he’d better let him sleep in. Kent slipped out of bed, pulled on his boxer briefs, and made his way to the kitchen to start some coffee. 

The night before Grant spent way too much time apologizing for his mother. Kent didn’t know if it’s because Caroline had really been that bad, or if it was Kent was being too sensitive. He called Beth’s office and got her answering service, it was too early for her to be there, and he requested a call back. 

He was sure to get some good feedback from Beth, but he couldn’t help but feel he wanted to talk to someone who understood better. He thought about calling Shane Jefferson in Phoenix, but their connection had always been mostly physical. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but when they were together, it was very clearly only for sex and they’d never taken the time to actually get to know one another. Same with Brian Eyeler, but only less frequent since he played in the East for Nashville. 

Kent and Jack Zimmermann weren’t close friends. But they had a begrudging respect for each other, and now that Jack was in the league with him, they saw each other at the times they played each other, and when there were NHL events. Kent couldn’t help but think this was possibly something he could talk to Jack about. 

He shook the idea out of his head and decided to wait for Beth to call. He could get her opinion on talking to Jack as well. 

Kent got his coffee and sat quietly on the couch, turning on Sports Center on low volume while he waited for either Grant to wake up or Beth to call back. 

Within an hour both happened at the same time. Kent’s phone ringing as Grant padded out of the bedroom, hair sticking up every which way. “It’s Beth,” he said to Grant, as he went back to the bedroom to take her call. 

He told her he was feeling some anxiety about a new relationship, and she scheduled him to come in after a short Aces practice that afternoon. 

Skating helped him. It always did. Ever since he was a little boy, there was something about pulling on a pair of skates, gliding on the ice and shooting pucks that just helped clear Kent’s head. It helped him realize that there was no law that said Kent had to be open with his team. Hell, there could have been any number of his teammates with secrets they were keeping. The Aces liked to talk about the team as a family, but that wasn’t exactly true. It really was nothing more than a nice sentiment. He didn’t owe the Aces a coming out. 

By the time he was at Beth’s office, he was feeling better, but still went through everything with her. Though he and Grant had been together for five months, he still hadn’t told his therapist about it, because the last time he saw her had been back in August before the season started and at that point, he and Grant weren’t official. 

Beth had been a lifesaver for Kent. The best thing the Aces ever did for him was to make therapy part of his contract. When he signed with the team, it was days after Jack’s overdose. Someone, somewhere in the Aces organization knew that Kent was an eighteen year old boy, who’d been traumatized to find his best friend nearly dead, and was going to be out on his own for the first time in his life. By all accounts, it should have been a fucking disaster. Except that they made him see Beth. 

Beth was young, only about twenty six when Kent became her client. She was blond haired and had a soft southern accent. At first, Kent only went to see her because he was obligated to. On their first visit, he had assured her that no matter what happened in his life, he never let it affect his play on the ice. And she had asked, “But what about how it affects you off the ice?” Kent had spent so much time being sure that he was only worth what happened on the ice, that question legitimately stumped him. It had only taken until their fifth visit, he actually got up the nerve to talk about Jack, and he told her that they’d been sleeping together and were, he thought, boyfriends. And Beth just….didn’t blink. If it shocked her, she didn’t let him know. But she did guide him, simply by asking questions that he already knew the answer to, toward dealing with it in a better way. 

Now it was more than six years later, and he didn’t see Beth on a regular basis. She trusted him to call in when he needed it. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this boyfriend earlier, Kent,” was how she greeted him bustling into her office carrying a steaming mug with a tea bag sticking out of it. It was an Aces mug that Kent had given to her. “How’s it been making you feel, to be in a relationship?” She sat down across from him. 

And Kent had to talk about how it was both the best, and the most anxiety-inducing thing to happen to him recently. He told her about Caroline and her questions (“How do you think she intended the question? How did you take it? Why are there differences there?” Beth asked), he told her about his anger over his cheating teammates and how they could be open but he had to be secretive (“Is their opinion of you important? Do they value your opinion of them? Why do you think the Aces are pushing the family narrative on the team?”) 

Her questions were just so good, and so thought provoking. She allowed him to come to answers on his own, and it always wound up with her reminding him that he should focus more about the things he can control. 

Kent couldn’t control people’s reactions to him. And because of that, what he could control is what people know about him. Kent can’t control that Caroline Nolan can be overbearing, but what he can control is setting some boundaries with her if he feels comfortable. 

He always left Beth’s office feeling much better, and this was no different. 


	4. Mothers II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent's mom and sister come to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly couldn't remember if we ever got a full name/age/position for Scraps. So I made one up. Sorry if it's non-canonical.

In January, Kent’s mother and sister Kelly come for a visit. The Aces had a scheduled homestand, with a Friday night game, and a Sunday afternoon game to be aired on ESPN. 

He’d texted them a couple of weeks before they came.  _ There’s someone I’m going to introduce you to when you get here.  _

It took approximately zero point three seconds for Kelly to reply,  _ OMG. You have a BOYFRIEND!!!!! _

Kent rolled his eyes as he replied,  _ Yes.  _

_ DEEEEEEETAILS!  _ Came Kelly’s reply. 

Their mom butted in,  _ Don’t be pushy Kelly. But yes, Kent we want details.  _

Kent considered ignoring them. He probably should have just surprised them when they got there.  _ It’s Grant Nolan. Pete Nolan’s brother. He’s a doctor.  _ Kent never got tired of reminding himself that he was dating a doctor. 

Both of them replied at once,  _ A doctor??  _

And like, yeah it seemed so impressive. But at the same time, why were they so surprised that a doctor would like Kent? 

____

Kent’s mom was an Aces lucky charm. Since he’d signed with the team, they never lost a game that she attended. And while Kent liked seeing his mom because he loved her and he did miss her when they went too long without seeing each other, he’d be lying if he said part of the reason he was excited for her visit was to get them some wins. 

The Aces had lost three in a row going into that weekend and they really could use a couple of wins. Nollie had sprained his ankle, and their biggest D-man was out with a concussion. Gagey was playing with a couple of busted fingers and wasn’t up to his usual. They needed all the luck they could get. 

His mom and Kelly got in late Thursday afternoon, and Kent picked them up from the airport as soon as he left the arena. His mom wasted no time,”When do we get to meet Grant?” 

They were waiting at the baggage claim, because for some reason his mother and sister couldn’t fit four days worth of clothes into carry-ons. “Mom,” Kent said. “Don’t scare him off when you meet him.” 

His mother laughed and Kelly absolutely cackled, “We’re going to  _ grill  _ him,” she promised. 

“Awesome,” Kent said sarcastically. He couldn’t imagine Grant wouldn’t be able to handle them. He could tell Grant was the type of guy who gave good parent. “He’s working tonight. Then he has to go home and sleep tomorrow morning. He’ll be sitting with you and Nollie and Patrice in the luxury box at the arena tomorrow night.” 

“What’re we doing tonight?” Kelly asked anxiously. 

Kelly and his mom would want to do fun Las Vegas touristy things, and Kent couldn’t blame them. But God, going to casinos wasn’t really his jam. He’d done that enough the year he turned twenty-one to last a lifetime. Plus, blackjack was the only game he really understood. (What the fuck was even up wtih craps?) This year, Kent hadn’t planned in advance to get tickets to any shows, which he usually did when they were here. 

“Um, I’m taking you guys out to dinner,” he said. “I made reservations at Spago. That’s in Caesar’s, so if you want we can play some games afterward.” 

His mom patted his cheek, “You’re such a good boy.” 

________

On Friday, Kent saw his mother and sister to the luxury box in the arena. Grant and Nollie still weren’t there, and he had to go get changed. So he left them, telling them that Pete would be there to make introductions shortly. 

Nollie eventually made his way to the locker room, still on crutches from his ankle. “Patrice and Grant are sitting up with your mom and sister,” he said. 

“Thanks,” Kent said. “How was it?” 

Nollie laughed, “You sister practically jumped on Grant. I don’t think they’re going to watch the game at all.” 

Kent thanked Nollie, and had him stick around for their pre-warmup meeting. They were on a streak of bad luck and as Captain, Kent knew he had to say something. Before the Coaches came out, Kent called everyone to attention. 

“I know we’ve had a few rough games coming in today. But don’t think about that, OK? Whatever happened in our last three games doesn’t have any bearing on what’s gonna happen tonight. We’ve practiced well, and I know we can win this one. Focus on today, and don’t think about the past, OK? If we get desperate, we’ll make mistakes, and that’s what we want to avoid.” These speeches didn’t come naturally to Kent, because my God these professionals should already know this, but as Captain he had to get good at them. He had to recognize that some of his teammates needed to hear a pep talk before a game and so he just had to give them. And he felt like he’d gotten pretty good at it. 

“Yeah, Cap!” Someone called, and a few other people agreed. 

Kent didn’t think it was his speech, he thought it was his mom’s presence, but they won their game, and they won it handily. Kent had a goal and an assist in their 4-1 victory over Seattle.

There was a nearby sports bar that a lot of the players would go to after a game, particularly after a win, and the locker room was buzzing with plans for nearly everyone to go out. “You coming, Cap?” Scraps asked. 

“I don’t know,” Kent said. He really just wanted to go home and hang out with Grant and his mom and sister. “My mom and sister are here visiting-” 

Scraps interrupted, “They can come too!” 

“Yeah! Bring them!” someone else said. 

“Mrs. Parse is our good luck charm,” another Aces longtimer explained to Gage. “We never lose when she’s here.” 

“Hey, How old is your sister?” Carly asked, lecherously. 

“I’ll go if they want to,” Kent said, “But stay the fuck away from my sister.” Everyone laughed. 

Nollie came into the locker room, and Kent told him the plans. “Patrice is really tired,” he said. “I don’t know if we’re going.” 

“C’mon,” Kent begged. “If you don’t go, it’ll look weird that Grant’s going.” 

“Oh yeah, all right.” Nollie agreed. Kent felt guilty about that. Nollie probably really wanted to go home with his pregnant wife, but because he was the only one on the team who knew about Grant, and because he was Grant’s brother, he got pulled into their hiding. 

Kent made his way up to the luxury box where Grant, Kelly and his mom were talking with two men who were part of the team’s ownership group. Kent wondered if they even realized who they were talking to. 

“Kent!” One of the owners, Wayne Farrel, said. “What a good game tonight.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Kent said politely. He’d rarely needed to talk to anyone in ownership, and considered the coaches and GM his bosses. But it really was the owners who controlled everything. “I knew we could come back from those losses.”

“And you did it so well,” Wayne said. “I will let you get back to your visit with your mother and sister.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Kent said. “Thank you.” 

When he was gone, Kent turned to the other three, “We’re going to the sports bar down the street to celebrate the win. I’m only going if you guys want to go.” He turned to Grant, “And Pete said he’d come too, so it wouldn’t look weird that you’re coming.” 

“The whole team?” Grant asked, slipping his arm around Kent’s waist. 

Kent deftly moved away from Grant’s touch. “Most of us,” he said. 

“Oh yeah!” Kelly said, clapping her hands. “Let’s go!” Kent should have known, Kelly was always up for a party and he’d never actually taken her and his mom out with the team to celebrate a win.

The bar was already crowded when they got there, Nollie and Scraps were at a large booth, holding it for them. Kent and Grant slid in next to Nollie, while Kelly and his mom sat next to Scraps. “First round is on me,” Kent said, getting everyone’s order and making his way up to the bar. 

Scraps was at the table, so Kent and Grant couldn’t be too boyfriend-y with each other. But then again, Scraps was a little bit of an airhead and probably wouldn’t notice anything going on unless Kent and Grant had a full-on makeout session in front of him.

It was loud and rowdy and fans kept coming by for pictures. Fan interaction was always such a mixed bag for Kent, because when he wasn’t in the mood, he  _ really  _ wasn’t in the mood. But this night had such a light air and the team was still on a high from their win that Kent was more than happy to sign autographs and pose for pictures, and introduce fans to his mom and sister, who would also pose for pictures.

They hadn’t even been there a half hour, before he was tagged in a few IG photos. Everyone crowded around and looked at Kelly’s phone, as she scoured the Kent Parson hashtag. 

And Kent, who rarely drank to excess during the season, found himself slightly buzzed, enjoying the company he was in, and heavy and greasy food to soak up the alcohol. He was going to have to run a few extra miles tomorrow to work this off, but it was so worth it. The coziness of his mother and sister being there along with his boyfriend left him feeling warm and relaxed. 

The TVs were on, but most people weren’t paying attention. At the booth behind them, Carly was sitting with Gagey and a couple of other teammates, and Kent overheard Carly say, “Oh thank fucking Christ that’s only a problem in women’s sports.” 

Kent looked up at the TVs curiously, and saw the set that was on ESPN showing a story about the US Women's Hockey team and the marriage between two of its members. There was a picture of the two women at their wedding, one of them in a long cream gown and the other in a fitted dark blue suit. 

“Can you imagine?” Gagey agreed, laughing. 

Kent’s table went mostly silent, with Nollie, Kelly and their mom looking at Kent and Grant, waiting to see if they’d say anything. Kent shook his head slightly at them and took a sip of his drink. Grant clasped his hands in front of him, looking down at the table. Scraps didn’t notice anything amiss. 

They listened in. “I think I’d quit if I found out there was a cocksucker on our team,” Carly said. 

Kent took a deep breath. “Maybe we should leave?” he said. 

Scraps, who hadn’t been paying attention, heard that last part and stood up, “Hey Carlson!” Carly turned his head and looked over at their booth, surprised to see Scraps looking angry. Scraps was such a lovable dumb jock, Kent wouldn’t have even been able to imagine him getting angry at anyone. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” 

Things on their end of he bar went a little quiet as a few people realized one teammate just told another to shut the fuck up. 

“What’d you say to me?” Carlson looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe this twenty-one year old had the nerve to talk to him, a veteran and thirty-five, like that. 

“I said shut the fuck up,” Scraps said. “I have two moms, and I said for you to shut. The fuck. Up.” 

“Oh chill out,” Carly said, rolling his eyes. “I said it’s fine for women’s sports. If you have two moms, we don’t gotta worry about them in the NHL.” 

“No,” Scraps said. “It’s not OK to say things like that, right Cap?” Scraps, looked at Kent for confirmation. 

Kent had to think fast. On the one hand, Scraps was right. It wasn’t an appropriate thing to say and as Captain, Kent had to put a stop to it. But on the other hand, he’d just spent the last six years in the league carefully avoiding telling people not to use words like cocksucker (or worse). He’d always felt safer just ignoring it. Never joining in, but never condemning it either. 

But on a third hand, he couldn’t ignore it in front of Grant. That’d be a huge mistake because Kent wanted Grant to not only like him, but respect him. Kent turned around, “Scraps is right,” Kent said, turning to look at Carly. “You can’t say things like that.” 

“Aw,” Carly said in a high-pitched sarcastic voice, “We can’t say things like that because we don’t want to hurt someone’s wittle feewings.” Gagey laughed loudly. 

Kent turned back around so Carly couldn’t see his face flush. “I think I want to leave,” he said, downing the rest of his drink. 

“Yeah,” Grant said and Nollie nodded his agreement. 

Kent went to the bar to settle up the tab, left a big tip and stood outside in the chilled night air. He hadn’t said anything since saying he wanted to leave, and his friends and family were quietly waiting for him to say something. He didn’t know what to say to them. Fuck, he didn’t know what to say to  _ himself.  _

Nollie got a cab, while Kent ordered an Uber for himself, his mom, sister and Grant to go back to his place. 

“Kent?” his mom asked carefully as they pulled away in the minivan that had picked them up. 

Kent was staring out the window and turned around to look at her in the back row. “Yeah?” 

“You OK?” 

Kent shrugged and continued staring out of the window. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. Was he pissed at Carly? Yeah, of course he was. Carly was a dick, and he’d been a dick ever since he’d come to the Aces. No doubt he had been a dick on his previous teams. 

But he was also humiliated. He hated that this had happened in front of Grant and his mom and his sister. Because he’d heard things like what Carly said before. Hell, he’d been hearing it since he was fourteen. But when it was just him hearing it, he could forget about it. Or put it in that little space in his brain labeled  _ Do not think too hard about this.  _ And he could go around telling his mom and his sister that it wasn’t too bad being a closeted NHL athlete. He could tell his boyfriend the same thing. 

But then Carly goes and runs his fucking mouth about a lesbian wedding in front of Kent, his mother, his sister and his boyfriend. He’d spent the previous years convincing his mom and sister that being a closeted athlete in the NHL was easy-peasy. And now, he knows, it’ll be that much harder to convince them of that. 

And that isn’t even the worst part. The worst part is Scraps, who’d probably also been hearing shit like that for years and had just had enough. Scraps, all of twenty one years old and in only his second NHL season, had stood up to Carly, while Kent had to be dragged into a half-hearted rebuke. 

Kent wasn’t an idiot. He knew Scraps looked up to him, and he knew that he’d let Scraps down. As if that wasn’t enough he’d let Scraps down in front of his own boyfriend. 

Kent was a bad Captain and he was a bad at being gay. He didn’t know how to fix either of those, because at this point, it seemed like there was no fucking way to be good at both.

And another thing he really hated was the pitying way everyone else in the car was looking at him. God, they couldn’t get home fast enough. His heart started racing and he could feel tears pricking his eyes. Jesus Christ, all he needed to top off this shit sandwich of a day was to break down and cry. He took a deep breath, tried to disguise it as a sigh, and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to be aware of the way they were looking at him. 

“Fuck that guy,” Kelly said. It was a nice sentiment, but Kent knew he was as much a problem as Carly was. 

When they got back to Kent’s place, Kent said goodnight to his mom and sister, who headed off to the spare bedroom, while he and Grant went to his room. 

“You want to talk about this?” Grant asked, closing the door quietly behind him. 

“Not really,” Kent said. 

“OK,” Grant said. “But  _ should  _ we talk about it?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“Is that how it always is for you?” 

“Not  _ always. _ ” Kent assured him. “It’s just a thing that happens. You know, you played hockey.” 

“Yeah but-”

Kent interrupted, “But nothing.” He flopped dramatically onto his bed. “I feel like a failure.” 

“What?” Grant sounded confused. “Kent, why?” He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Kent’s leg comfortingly. 

“Are you kidding me? I should have stood up for Scraps at least. I could have been more….what’s the word, like stronger in my convictions, toward Carlson.” 

“Emphatic? Vehement?” Grant suggested. 

“Sure. This isn’t about the words I want to use. I should have stood up to him better, but I got scared and didn’t want to rock the boat. And I really fucking hate myself now because maybe I should have rocked the boat, you know? I’m the Captain and I should be the one who guides this team to being better than that.”

“You can’t change Carlson’s mind,” Grant pointed out. 

“But I should be able to make it so he knows it’s wrong to say things like what he said.” 

“You didn’t lose your opportunity.” 

“I feel like I did. I feel like the gay gods put this opportunity in my lap and I was so fucking weak-willed. I couldn’t even stand up for Scraps’s moms. I didn’t even know he has two moms. He’s probably felt like that was something he had to hide.” Kent dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Talk to Scraps. Maybe he thinks you did fine.” 

“Then I ran away. I said something then immediately left. Fuck, he probably feels like shit."

“Kent,” Grant said. “You’re overreacting.”

“No I’m not,” Kent said angrily. 

“Then talk to Scraps,” Grant said. “Just tell him you were caught by surprise and you wish you’d been more emphatic toward Carlson.” Grant lay down next to Kent and rubbed his shoulders a little bit. “Babe,” he said. “It’ll be OK.”

Kent rolled over toward Grant and closed his eyes, not wanting Grant to see that he was almost crying. He started to say something, but quickly realized there was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t get the words out. 

“Do you need to call Beth?” Grant asked gently. 

Kent shrugged his shoulders. 

“What would Beth say right now?” Grant asked him. 

Kent took a few deep breaths and thought about Beth and what it would be like to sit in her office and talk to her. When the lump in his throat cleared, he said, “She would ask me questions about tonight.” 

“What kind of questions,” Grant prompted. 

“She’d probably ask about Carly’s past in saying homophobic things. And she’d ask how I felt before when he said things, and why it was different tonight.” 

“Why was it different tonight?” Grant asked. 

Kent swallowed. “It affected someone else,” he admitted. “I feel like it’s OK for me to put up with homophobic language because I’m used to it, but Scraps shouldn’t have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with it though,” Grant pointed out. 

“It’s easier for me to put up with it,” Kent said. “And I know it’s bad and it’s wrong and as a gay man I should  _ want _ to stand up to him. But I just don’t have that in me. I’m not trying to be the first out man in the NHL. I’m not trying to be a role model. I just want to fucking play hockey. I want my story to be about hockey, not about being gay.” 

“That’s fair,” Grant said. 

“There’s another reason it was different tonight,” Kent admitted. 

“What’s that?”

Kent sat up and faced Grant. “It was humiliating that it was in front of you, and my mom and Kelly. I feel like I let you all down by letting my teammate be homophobic.” 

“Babe,” Grant said. He pushed Kent’s hair back a little and pulled him in for a kiss. “You can be vulnerable around us. You know you can.” 

“I never wanted anyone to know that it could get like that sometimes.” 

Grant huffed a little laugh. “I don’t think anyone on Earth would have a right to be surprised that there are homophobic people on a professional sports team.” 

“True,” Kent agreed. His heart rate slowed a little. Grant was helping him feel better. 

“What do you want to do?” 

Kent thought for a moment. “I need to talk to Scraps,” he said. “I need to apologize for not standing up for him, for his moms more...how did you describe it?”

“More emphatically.” 

“Emphatically,” Kent said, trying the word out. “Yeah, I’ll pull him aside at practice tomorrow. I’ll talk to him.” 

“Feel better?” Grant asked, leaning in to kiss Kent again.

“Mmm-hmm,” Kent said, his lips attached to Grant’s. He pulled Grant down on top of him and deepened the kiss. 

“You want to do this with your mom here?” 

Kent laughed a little, as he ran his hands up the back of Grant’s shirt and stroked his back. “Mom and Kelly are completely on the other side of the condo. They can’t hear anything.”

Grant grinned and lowered his body onto Kent’s capturing his lips once again.

_________

Kent got to the arena earlier than he needed to the next day. He didn’t even know if the GM would be there, but he lucked out. 

The Aces GM was named Roger Spooner. He was tall, more than a half foot taller than Kent, and had a kind and deeply lined face. He talked in a slow thoughtful manner that was reminiscent of a Sam Elliot character. He was really well liked by all of the players. 

“Do you have a moment, Mr. Spooner?” Kent asked. 

“Of course I do, Kent. Come on in. And please call me Roger, I’ve told you that.” 

“Right, Roger,” Kent said as he stepped into the office. Roger’s office was large, with a window that overlooked the ice. The walls were covered with pictures of the Aces, mostly during their two Stanley Cup wins, but also pictures drawn by his granddaughters, who were often seen running around the arena with their grandfather. 

Kent sat in one of the seats opposite the GM, and got right into it. “Last night some of the team was at the bar after the game,” he started. 

“Good game, by the way,” Roger said, smiling. 

“Right, thanks. Well, I don’t want to name any names, but there was some homophobic language used by a couple of players? And it seemed really inappropriate, especially because Scraps, you know Wesley Scrapelli, he’s got two moms, which I didn’t know. And Scraps said something to the other player. Well, he told him to fuck off. And I took Scraps’ side, but I wasn’t very emphatic about it.” 

“Okay,” Roger said slowly, waiting for Kent to continue. 

“Yeah, so I’m going to talk to Scraps about that later. But I just think that I’m the Captain, you know, and I should be doing something to lead by example. And I want to make the locker room more tolerant, but I want the Aces staff on my side.” 

“Kent, I can assure you that I agree with you. Is there something specific you’re asking me for?” 

“No, not really. I just am maybe going to say something in the locker room? And I want you and the coaches to know I’m doing it? And if you think it’ll help, maybe for you all to be there?” Kent didn’t know why he was speaking in questions. 

“Yes,” Roger said, nodding. “Do it before you all hit the ice and I’ll see to it that we’re there. I’ll bring along James Dooley as well.” James was the head of PR for the Aces. “If word about a homophobic locker room gets out, James is the one who’d be handling that.” 

“Yes,” Kent said. “Thank you, Sir.” 

“You know I’ve said this before, Kent,” Roger said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on his desk. “But we like to think of the Aces as a family. And in a family, you’ve got to have people respecting each other. And that starts with using respectful language. I’m glad you brought this to my attention. 

When Kent was dismissed by Roger, he headed to the locker room and saw Scraps just heading in. “Scraps,” Kent called. “Let’s talk a minute.” 

They found the whirlpool room available, and Kent shut the door behind him. “I want to apologize for last night,” he said. 

Scraps looked surprised, “For what, Cap?” 

“I don’t think I stood up for you very well to Carlson.” 

“Oh no, you did OK.” 

“No,” Kent said. Scraps wasn’t going to let him off so easy. Not after he’d spent an entire night in anxiety over it. “I really could have been more emphatic. What Carly said was wrong and I wish I could go back and tell him so.” 

“I’m used to it,” Scraps said, shrugging. 

“Yeah, me too,” Kent said bitterly. 

Scraps looked confused. “It’s just how hockey is.”

“It doesn’t have to be, though. Right?” 

“Kent, it’s nice that you’re willing to fight on behalf of my moms, but you really don’t have to. Carly didn’t say anything I haven’t heard before, and I only told him to shut the fuck up because I was a little drunk.” 

“What if I told you it’s a little more personal for me?” Kent asked, his heart now hammering in his chest. 

“Personal how?” God, Scaps was so sweet, but he was a little thick. 

“Extremely personal,” Kent said. He looked Scraps in the eye, “I’m gay.” 

“Oh!” Scraps looked surprised. “Oh, shit Kent. That must be real hard for you. Does anyone else on the team know?” 

God damn, Scraps was a stand-up guy. “Nollie knows because I’m dating his brother.” 

If finding out Kent was gay surprised Scraps, finding out he was dating Grant absolutely gobsmacked him. Scraps’ mouth opened a little before he started laughing, “Oh my God. Did I miss some, like, obvious signs last night at the bar?”

Kent smiled a little, relieved to have gotten this off his chest. “No,” he assured Scraps. “We’re keeping it real quiet. You’re the only person not in one of our families who knows.”

“That’s actually kind of nice. I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”

“Well, after last night, and finding out about your moms, you know….” Kent drifted off. 

“Yeah, and you trying to stay closeted probably made it that much harder to say something to Carlson, right?” 

“That’s exactly right,” Kent said. “But I was feeling guilty all night, and before I talk to the team about it, I wanted to apologize to you.” 

“Talk to the team?” 

“I got the GMs on my side that we’re not gonna tolerate that type of language in the locker room and the team’ll be enforcing fines.” 

“Why would you do that? If you’re trying to stay closeted?” 

“It’s the right thing to do.” 

“You can say it was me, you know.” 

“I can say what was you?” Kent was confused. 

“If you don’t want it to look like you were personally offended by Carly’s comment, you can say I got real upset because of my moms.” 

“Oh, well, I wasn’t planning on saying it was about anyone or anything. I’m not naming names. We’re just gonna have a discussion about tolerant language.” Kent paused. “Oh shit, maybe I should have started writing a speech or something.” 

Scraps laughed, “Just speak from the heart, Cap. You’ll be fine.” 

Before hitting the ice for practice, Kent saw Roger, James Dooley and two of the coaches hanging out by the door. With a nod from Roger, Kent called the team around him. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna have a talk about locker room culture,” he said. “I was talking with management,” he waved his hands vaguely toward Roger, “and you know they,  _ we _ , like to think of the Aces as a family. But really, we’re a pretty diverse group of people, and we need to respect that. There was some language used last night that wasn’t appropriate. It was...uh… well, it was homophobic, and that’s gotta stop. We’re not gonna have that on our team, OK? And if we hear people saying things like that, the team is implementing a fine system.” 

Someone scoffed. Kent couldn’t see who, but he could only guess it was Carly. 

“So are there any questions?” 

“I mean, It’s OK to not want a gay teammate,” Carly said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“That’s not really OK,” Kent said. He kept his voice even, but God did he fucking hate Carly right in that moment. “That’d be like saying it’s OK to not want a teammate who’s a different race and even you know that’s bullshit.” 

“It’s not the same thing and you know it,” Carly said laughing. 

Like most NHL teams, the Aces were predominantly white. They had Nate Kim, who was half Korean, and Clay Williamson, who was half Black and that was it. Everyone else was white- some different nationalities but still white guys. Clay, who was a quiet third-liner who worked harder than anyone else but whose talent just wasn’t up to most of the rest of the team, stood up and said, “Cap is right.” 

Kent was relieved. Scraps stood up too, “I have two moms and if anyone says anything homophobic, I’m going to take it  _ very  _ personally.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, like he was daring Carly to say anything to him. 

Carly looked around, like he was waiting for someone to back him up, but most guys were looking either at Kent, Scraps, or at the floor. 

“Great,” Roger said, clapping his hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled.” And he went on a little longer about the Aces and their team values and being like a family. Kent only half-listened. He kept his eyes on Carly. 

After their practice, Kent was called into PR. Kent hadn’t spent much time talking to James Dooley. A little bit about the constant speeding tickets, and his need to understand that it reflected poorly on the team, and again when Kent and Britney Spears had done a Vegas tourism ad together and rumors about them dating had sprung up. But Kent was happy to let his hockey be the focus. 

James Dooley was a short and scrawny guy with reddish-blond hair and a face full of freckles. He looked like a child out of a 1950s TV show, but he ran the funniest and hippest account of any NHL team (the only team that seemed to 'get' what Philadelphia was doing with their mascot Gritty) and the Aces absolutely adored him. He was good at his job. 

“What’s up?” Kent asked.

“Close the door behind you,” James said. 

Kent had never been in James’s office before. It was tiny and windowless. His desk took up most of the space, which had a computer with three big monitors on it. Kent could only see one monitor and it was opened to Twitter. Kent sat on one of the plastic chairs in front of James’s desk. 

“I wanted to thank you for the speech in the locker room this morning.”

“Oh, sure,” Kent said. He wondered if this was James coming out to him. That would be cool, and Kent would support him or whatever, but they weren’t close and it seemed weird for James to be doing. 

“How much do you know about PR?” James asked. 

Kent laughed a little. “Um, I know I haven’t gotten a speeding ticket in a couple years since our talk that one time.” 

James snorted. “Thanks for that, by the way. No, I just wanted you to know that PR has all these contingencies.” 

“I don’t get it.” 

“So we have a template for how to react when a player does something. We have a script, I guess you’d say for someone getting arrested, someone getting ill, someone making a racist comment, you know that type of thing.” James paused. “We also have one for a player coming out of the closet.” 

“Oh,” Kent said. 

“So me and most of the other NHL PR people know each other and we talk,” James went on. 

“OK?” Kent had no idea where this was going. 

“Lisa McMann is in PR over in Phoenix.” Kent’s insides turned to ice as James continued. “And she called me a year, maybe a little more than that, ago. She said a player had come out to her, but wanted to stay closeted. But he went to clubs and stuff and just wanted her to be aware if he was outed by someone else.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kent said. He kept his voice neutral. He knew that was Shane Jefferson that James was talking about. 

“He told her he’d slept with one of the Aces. He didn’t give a name, which is fine because it’s not really anyone’s business. It’s not my business who the players sleep with as long as it’s consensual. But Lisa told me, just to make sure I had my contingency plan in place.” 

Kent tried to keep his hands from shaking. “Why’re you telling me this?” 

James looked surprised, like Kent should have understood. “Oh, Kent. I just thought you might like to know you have a teammate that your speech means a lot to. You really made a difference to someone and I just thought you’d like to know you did a good thing today. Too many teams would have let that language go.” 

Kent didn’t realize it until James asked, “Are you OK?” but he was clenching the arms of the chair he was sitting in. His heart was racing and there was a tightness in his chest and he didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. 

“Let me get this straight. The Coyotes PR told you there’s a gay player on the Aces?” 

“Well, I guess he could be bi? But no names were discussed,” James said. “I don’t know who it is.” 

Kent didn’t say anything, but his face must have looked stricken, because James changed his tune and sounded almost angry. “Look, Kent, I hope that wasn’t just lip service you were paying back there in the locker room.” 

“What?” Kent asked, confused. James clearly didn’t know what was going through Kent’s mind. 

“If it’s gonna bother you this much to have a gay teammate, I don’t know why you even botthered with that speech. Did it make you feel better to say something woke without thinking through what it would mean?” 

“What?” Kent asked again, this time a little angrily. Twenty four hours ago, Kent had felt safe and secure in his little bubble with his boyfriend, and having only a few people in their families know. Now there’s a second teammate who knows, a PR guy who thinks he’s homophobic, and another PR person in Phoenix of all places who possibly knows. And this is all too much for him. His chest constricted and he was pretty sure he was on the verge of a panic attack. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gasped to James. He was trying very hard to keep his face neutral. 

“Kent,” James said. “I was trying to tell you-” 

Kent cut him off with a choked, “It’s me, asshole.” As soon as he said it, the tightness in his chest turned to a heat that flooded his body. He was still anxious, but he could breathe a little better and his heartbeat slowed a bit. He hadn’t realized he’d been sweating, but his underarms were wet despite him having just showered. 

James paused, “What?” 

“It’s me that Shane Jefferson was talking about,” he said miserably. “I’m the one who slept with him.” 

“Oh,” James said, and Kent could practically see his brain working to realign the conversation he thought he’d be having versus the one that had popped up. “Oh, Kent.” 

“Yeah,” Kent shrugged. 

“Well you know you have the full support of the Aces behind you.” 

Kent let out a short clipped laugh. “Don’t worry about your contingencies,” he said. “I’m very interested in staying in the closet.” 

“OK, well,” James leaned forward on the desk and clasped his hands together. “Do you have people who know? Someone to talk to?” 

“From the team?” Kent asked. “Pete Nolan and Wesley Scrapelli know.” 

“Oh that’s good,” James said. “And I do have this PR contingency, just in case.” 

“In case I’m outed by someone else, against my will,” Kent said flatly. 

James nodded, “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said. 

“You and me both,” Kent said. He looked around. “Is there anything else you wanted?” 

“I guess not,” James said. “I just - Kent. Thank you for telling me.”

Kent shrugged. It had felt a little against his will. “Can I go?” he asked. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Kent got up to leave, and turned back to James, “This doesn’t go out of this room, right?”

“No, of course it doesn’t, Kent, you have my complete word.” 

Kent nodded, “If you’re in contact with other PR people, there’s a guy in Nashville as well.” 

“I already know that,” James said. “Lisa told me that one too.” 

“And go ahead and forget I mentioned it was Shane Jefferson,” Kent added. “I didn’t mean to say his name. I should’ve respected his privacy a little more.”

“It’s already forgotten,” James said. 

Kent nodded his thanks, and left the office. 

Straight people would never have to deal with this. 


	5. Friends and Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for this chapter - a passing reference to a teenage suicide.

It took until February for the Aces to play the Falconers when the Falcs travelled to Vegas. Kent and Jack had a shaky sort of friendship. Kent had texted Jack to congratulate him on graduating Samwell the previous May and they had talked a little. 

While Kent wasn’t in love with Jack like he had been when he was seventeen years old, he still liked Jack, and closeted athletes should at least have a sense of solidarity. So a few days before the game, Kent texted Jack and asked if he wanted to come over for dinner after the game. 

“Is that stupid?” Kent asked Grant. He was worried that Grant would be jealous, but he wasn’t. Grant was actually really supportive. 

“It’s not stupid to try to save a friendship,” Grant assured him.

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

Grant put his hand to his chest in mock shock. “Who  _ wouldn’t  _ want to have dinner with you?” 

Kent laughed, but rolled his eyes. “Okay. I’m sure he’ll want to catch up as much as I want to.” 

Sure enough, Kent got a text back just minutes later.  _ Sounds good!  _

______

The Aces lost to the Falcs. The score was close at 3-2, but even Kent had to admit that they were outplayed by a lot worse than that. The Aces were comfortable in second place in the West, and while the Falcs were only third in the East, they were on a hot streak and had made their way up from fifth in just two weeks. 

As the game ended and Kent watched the Falcs celebrate their win and hug each other and joke and laugh, a thought crossed his mind that he couldn’t shake. “ _ They’re going to win the Stanley Cup this year.”  _ He didn’t know where that thought came from, because obviously he’d much rather his own team win the Cup. 

But there was something about the game they’d just played, and seeing how much of a team the Falcs appeared to be, that made Kent just absolutely sure that Jack Zimmermann was going to hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup his first year in the league. 

He shook the thought from his head, and made his way to the locker room.

When he walked out of the locker room, Zimms was waiting by the door, nose buried in his phone, waiting for Kent. 

“Hey,” Kent said. “Ready to go?” 

Jack finished up his text and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yup. Are we going out to eat?” he asked as he and Kent headed toward the parking garage. 

“We’re going to my condo,” Kent said. “If that’s OK.” 

“You’re cooking?” 

“Well, I cooked. I’m heating up.” 

“Parse can cook,” Jack shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. 

Kent smirked, “You sound surprised that I’ve grown up.” 

“I am,” Jack said earnestly. 

“Ha!” Kent unlocked the car and Jack slid into the passenger seat. “I’ve been living on my own a lot longer than you have. You’ve only been out of that frat house for how many months?”

When they got to the condo, Jack looked around. “Your place is nice. Oh! Here’s the famous cat!” he said when Kit came out to see who Kent had brought home. She stopped short, probably expecting Grant. 

“C’mere, Kit,” Kent said holding his hand out. He picked the cat up and took her over to Jack, “Kit, this is Zimms. Zimms, meet Kit Purrson.” 

“Can I hold her?” 

“She loves anyone who wants to hold her.” Kent handed her off. 

Jack cradled her and she curled into the crook of his elbows and started purring loudly. “She likes me!” 

“She’s an attention whore,” Kent said. “Don’t be too flattered.” 

“Can you take a picture on my phone?” Jack asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the camera app. 

Kent was centering the photo when a text popped up. Kent wasn’t being nosy, but it was from Bittle and it said  _ Can’t wait to hear how it goes. Love you!  _

Kent took the picture and pretended he didn’t see the text. “You can tag Kit on Instagram,” he said. 

Jack chuckled. “I would say I can’t believe you have an instagram for your cat, except that I can totally believe it.” 

Kent went to the kitchen and Jack followed, still holding Kit in his arms. Kent heated up the oven, then pulled the tray of lasagna he and Grant had prepared the day before out of the fridge and stuck it in to warm up. “It’s lasagna,” he said. “Zucchini instead of noodles. But I have garlic bread because I’ve never given up carbs.” 

“Neither have I,” Jack admitted. 

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Water or Gatorade,” Jack said. 

Kent figured Jack wouldn’t drink during the season. He pulled a Gatorade (he still remembered that blue was Jack’s favorite flavor) and handed it over. He pulled the classic greenish-yellow for himself. They went to the living room and sat on the couch. 

“So how do you like the Falcs?” Kent asked. 

“They’re great,” Jack said. “I’m really close to some of them. It took a while, you know, I had some anxiety going into the season.”

“Were you being a hockey robot?” 

Jack laughed, “I was trying not to. And once I felt more comfortable, it got better.” His face softened a little bit and Kent wondered what he was thinking about. “Yeah, once we all got to know each other.” 

“That’s great, Zimms.” 

“You know how it is,” Jack said. “Your teammates have to have each others’ backs.” 

“It’s nice when it works out that way, I guess.” 

Jack looked at Kent, his face screwed up in concentration. “Are you asking if my team knows I’m bi?” 

“I’m not asking that. I was just asking how you like playing for the Falcs.” 

“The whole team knows and my boyfriend is welcome with the WAGS.” 

A hot pang of jealousy hit Kent in his chest. He started to say something sarcastic, but held it back. It wasn’t Jack’s fault the Aces weren’t like that. Instead he asked, “Who’s your boyfriend?” 

“Eric Bittle? He played on my line at Samwell. I think you met him at a kegster one time.” 

“Short, blond and fast on the ice?” 

“That’s him.” 

“Huh.” 

“Kent? Are you telling me it’s not like that here?” 

Kent shrugged. “Two of them know.” 

“Well that’s something. I saw that picture on your fridge. Is that guy your boyfriend?” 

Kent nodded, “Grant Nolan.” 

“Nolan….Nolan.” Jack murmured, “Is he related to Pete Nolan?” 

“They’re brothers,” Kent answered. 

“So I guess Pete is one of two people who know?” 

“Oh yeah, obviously. Scraps, you know Wesley Scrapelli?” Jack nodded. “I told him. He’s got two moms so I knew that he’d be fine.” 

“Hmm,” Jack nodded. 

“What?” Kent asked defensively. “Sorry I’m not flaunting my gay pride all over the locker room.” 

“I never said you need to do that,” Jack said, sounding annoyed. “I just think it’s interesting that the two people you chose to told are people who have a connection with the gay community. Pete’s brother and Scrap’s moms."

“Yeah, so?” 

Jack shrugged, “It’s just something I noticed, OK? I don’t blame you, by the way. It seems like a smart first move.” 

“Only move,” Kent corrected. “Unless someone else happens to point out that they have gay parents or siblings, I’m keeping it quiet.” 

“I’m not telling you how to live your life, but-”

Kent cut him off, “Don’t then. I’m glad it’s better for you in Providence.”

“George, you know Georgia Martin, she built the team with that in mind.” 

“A gay player?” 

Jack laughed a little, just a huff. “No. But she personally interviews every potential player and gets a feel for their...moral compass I guess? Like, how they react to really any diversity in the locker room.” 

Another white hot stab of jealousy hit Kent right in the stomach. Roger Spooner was a decent guy, but he sure wasn’t going that far. He wanted players not to use homophobic language in the locker room, but he wanted wins even more. “That’s…” Kent didn’t know what to say and finally just said lamely, “good. Good for her, good for you.” 

Jack nodded and fiddled with his Gatorade bottle. “Tell me about Grant. How’d you meet?” 

This was safe territory. Kent never wanted to gush about his boyfriend to Pete, because it was his brother. And he didn’t want to with his mom and sister because they would just squeal and be way too happy for him. But he could talk about this to Jack. “He’s awesome,” Kent said. “We were at Nollie’s house for a fourth of July party, and someone spiked a volleyball in my face, and Grant helped me out. He’s a doctor.” 

“You’re dating a doctor?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Why does that surprise everyone?” Kent asked, mildly offended. “I’m not some kind of stupid bumpkin. He’s an ER physician at the UNLV Medical Center.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the medical campus, just three miles away from his condo. 

“I’ve never thought you were a stupid bumpkin,” Jack said, frowning. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t go to college and only graduated high school because I had to, notbecause I was so interested in algebra and history and discussing the themes of Shakespeare’s plays or whatever.” 

“I met some idiots in college,” Jack assured him. “It was good for me, but not everyone has to go. Except for doctors, I guess.” 

“And he loves his job,” Kent said. “He really likes medicine. And he reads a lot, and a lot of queer books, and I’ve even listened to some on audiobook. And he’s a good cook and helped me make the lasagna. But really, he’s just nice and he’s patient with me and he doesn’t mind that I’m a total closet case.” 

Jack grinned, “You sound really happy.” 

“I am!” Kent said. “I can deal with being closeted. It’s fine.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I am. Grant is OK with it, and I am too. We’re dealing and it’s fine.” Kent felt like he was being overly defensive, which he didn’t want Jack to pick up on, so he changed the topic. “Tell me about Bittle.” 

Jack’s face softened as he talked about Bittle. It was obvious to Kent that Jack was one hundred percent smitten and in love. When he talked about Bittle getting along so well with Thirdy’s wife, or how the entire Falcs team had gotten homemade jams, Kent was happy for him.

Truly, Kent was happy for him, but underneath the happiness was a pit of something uglier, the jealousy from earlier was eating at him. He swallowed it down, and as he and Jack sat down to dinner, he focused on being happy for Jack, being happy that they reconnected, and being happy that Grant was fine sitting alongside him in the closet. 

__________

It took ten months for Kent and Grant to get into their first major argument. 

The Aces were knocked out of the playoffs in the first round by Seattle -  _ again _ . Kent couldn’t believe it was the second year in a row that had happened. Unlike last year when they’d been decimated by injuries, they actually were playing with all their best guys this year. And they even seemed to be playing well. 

But the wins just weren’t happening. They lost in seven games. The three wins were resounding wins, all by more than two goals each. But their four losses were tough nail biters and were lost by only one goal each time. Three of them, including the seventh game, went into OT. 

Kent knew they weren’t the favorites to win the Cup, but they had been favored to at least get out of the first round. He’d had so much faith in his team. He knew they were better than what they played. 

His body ached, but that was nothing to how he felt inside. He was so beaten down and depressed and frustrated that he didn’t know what to do. 

So he sulked and he moped and he got surly and sarcastic with everyone, including Grant. 

And Grant was so patient, and so wonderful that he put up with it for about three days. But on the morning of that fourth day Kent woke up with a grunt, and turned on ESPN only to see Jack Zimmermann’s smiling face as the Falcs won their first game of the second round, and he threw the remote at the TV and cursed loudly. 

“OK,” Grant said, sitting up, having just been awoken by Kent’s cursing. He’d come into bed in the early hours of the morning after a long shift. He got up and grabbed the remote and threw it back at Kent. “I’ve had enough. I’m sorry your season ended in a way you didn’t want. But you have got to stop taking it out on me, and your mom, and Pete, and the TV.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Kent snapped. “I’ve still got the bruises from our last game.” He pointed to his upper right arm which was still sporting a large bruise that had turned from black to blue to this horrible yellowish shade. “It hasn’t been that long, and I’m allowed to be pissed.” 

“Of course you’re allowed to be pissed,” Grant said. He grabbed his glasses off the night stand and put them on to get a clearer view of Kent. “You’re allowed to feel whatever the fuck you want. But don’t throw your god damn remote at your TV, don’t wake me up after three hours of sleep because you can’t handle that other teams are playing hard too and sometimes a series isn’t gonna go your way.” 

Kent stood up and grabbed his shorts and pulled them up violently. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“What’s it about then, Kent? Because I put up with this all season long. You get pissy when you lose. Why do you think I’ve asked you before not to bring the office home with you.” It was true. When Kent would get snappy after a loss, which was common for him, Grant usually smiled mildly and said,  _ Don’t bring the office home with you, Kent.  _ Usually it worked, but Kent wasn’t having it this particular day. 

“Me being upset when  _ my  _ team loses, the team I’m the fucking captain of, isn’t me bringing office drama home. It’s me trying to be good at my fucking job!” 

“Other people have bad days at work, babe. We all deal with it without turning into total fucking dicks to the people we love.” 

“Uh-huh. My bad days at work are talked about on TV. They’re written about on blogs. People want me to be traded to another city when I have a bad day at work.” 

“And you listening to them is a choice you’re making,” Grant argued, his voice steadily louder. “Don’t turn on the TV. Don’t read the blogs, don’t read what the reporters have to say.” 

“It’s a serious business.” 

“Listen,” Grant said. He pulled on his clothes as well. “I’m too fucking tired for this shit. I’m going home and going to bed.” 

“Fine,” Kent said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Go then.” 

“Stay here and wallow,” Grant said. “But you’ll have to do it without me.” 

“Yep.” Kent said. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll stay here and wallow by myself because my boyfriend can’t take a couple of days of being supportive over a loss that might change the whole trajectory of my career.” 

Grant scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are truly un-fucking-believable.” He left the room and grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. After he put his shoes on he paused by the door, turned to Kent and said, “By the way. I was late last night because I had a bad day at work too. So think about what that means.” 

He didn’t wait for Kent to respond as he left, slamming the door behind him. 

Kent stomped around the condo for a while. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and spilled some of the milk, then was a little too aggressive in wiping it down. Kit curled herself around her legs, meowing and begging for attention. Kent bent down and scratched her behind the ears. Then stupidly, he turned the TV back on and watched ESPN’s report about the hockey playoffs. 

None of it made him feel any better. 

He got in the shower and tried to calm himself down. God, he couldn’t believe Grant; Where did he get off? Complaining about Kent, when he knew how passionate Kent was about his job? Of course Kent was going to be upset! He believed they were legitimately playing the best hockey that they could and they still lost. 

Kent wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t a good enough Captain, and he wasn’t a good enough hockey player to do the one thing the Las Vegas Aces were paying him to do - win. He had a right to be upset over that. And maybe all he wanted was a little reassurance from his boyfriend that he wasn’t a total fuckup of a human being. 

Kent was a little bit embarrassed about how long it took him to realize what Grant had meant when he stormed out of the house. He was sitting down and eating lunch (Fried Chicken he had delivered from KFC, because fuck his diet at this point) when he thought about Grant’s words. _ I had a bad day at work too. So think about what that means  _

A bad day at Kent’s work was a loss. A really bad day was one that knocked them out of the rest of the season. A bad day in the ER was...well that was something else entirely.

Kent put the chicken down. “Fuck,” he said to himself. Kit meowed and Kent turned to her. “I think I fucked up.” 

He could make this better, but he was so embarrassed that he needed to. God, he’d been wallowing in self pity and Grant had been dealing with….what? Kent hated to think of it. Grant talked about work sometimes, but rarely went into detail about patients. Kent knew Grant had just started at the hospital during the big concert shooting a couple of years earlier, and the one time he talked about it with Kent, his voice had gone hushed and he said he hoped he’d never have a day like that again. 

Kent opened up the website for the Las Vegas Review-Journal, wondering if he had been so disconnected that he missed a major event in the city that would have crowded the emergency rooms at the hospitals. The headline was all about a development deal on the Strip, so at least that wasn’t it. God, what had Grant been dealing with at the hospital last night?

He had to make it right. He didn’t know if Grant would be awake, but he had to get there. They didn’t spend a lot of time at Grant’s house, (Kent didn’t need to be recognized by a nosy neighbor who could put two and two together) but he still had his own key. 

Kent knocked lightly, but when there was no answer, he let himself in. He tiptoed upstairs and peeked in the master bedroom. Grant was on top of the covers on the bed, snoring lightly. He was wearing the clothes he’d left Kent’s condo in. Kent wondered if Grant fell right to sleep, or if he tossed and turned and stewed over their fight. Or if he tossed and turned and stewed over what had happened in the ER the night before. 

Kent made his way downstairs and wondered what to do. He could make Grant some lunch. He could read. He could go back upstairs and crawl into Grant’s bed with him. 

He wanted to let Grant sleep, and he assumed Grant would wake up hungry. Who knows how long it’d been since he last ate. Kent poked through the refrigerator and saw it was mostly empty. It made sense, Grant had spent the entirety of the first round of the playoffs at Kent’s when he wasn’t working. 

Well, since Kent was dutifully saying fuck-it to his diet plan, he’d order a pizza. He got out his phone and opened up the menu for Napoli Pizza, which was Grant’s favorite. He didn’t even have to think about what to order, because Grant always wanted the same thing on his pizza, green peppers, onion, and sausage. 

Kent grabbed a Bills hat from out of his car and pulled it on his head, hoping it’d help keep the delivery driver from recognizing him. It worked, the driver didn’t even glance twice at Kent, but did widen his eyes and say thanks in an awed voice when Kent tipped him twenty-five dollars on his fifteen dollar order. 

When Kent shut the door behind the driver, Grant called out “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” Kent called up. “I got lunch.” 

There was a long pause before Grant said, “OK. I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Kent hadn’t prepared what he was going to say. He had managed to forget somehow he’d be expected to say something for appearing in Grant’s kitchen uninvited. He pulled plates down and grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and took everything to the dining room table. 

He heard a toilet flush upstairs, and Grant came down the stairs, wearing basketball shorts and a clean white undershirt. His hair was sticking out in a million different directions, and under his glasses his eyes looked tired. “Hey.” 

“I ordered pizza,” Kent said, unnecessarily. 

Grant nodded, and grabbed a plate and put two slices onto it. Kent grabbed his own slice. They ate in silence for a while before Kent said, “Tell me about your bad day at work.” 

“You don’t want to know this,” Grant said, his voice flat. 

“I do.” 

Grant put his half finished pizza down and faced Kent. “The first was a seventeen year old boy with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He wasn’t dead yet when he came in but we couldn’t save him. Right before the end of my shift it was a three year old little girl who wasn’t buckled into a carseat when there was an accident. And she….” Grant drifted off and shook his head and cleared his throat a little. “I sat with the parents for a long time.” 

Tears pricked at Kent’s eyes. There really was no apologizing for being upset over losing a hockey game when there were parents who’d lost their children. “I’m sorry,” he said anyway. 

Grant shook his head. “I know I signed up for this. And people die, you know? People die in the ER and I know that and I do my best. But I actually don’t see death every day, because I admit the real bad cases to the ICU, and that’s where they die. I hardly ever have to sit with families, or tell them about their loved one’s death. But both of these cases didn’t even make it to ICU. And they were  _ kids _ , you know? That’s just so much harder.” He picked up his pizza and began eating again. 

“I’m sorry,” Kent said again because he didn’t know what else to say. “Not just that happened, but for everything.” 

“It’s okay,” Grant said. 

“No,” Kent said. “You were right. I was acting like a dick because of our losses and I wasn’t thinking about anyone else except for me and throwing myself a pity party.”

“You know I love that you’re so passionate about hockey,” Grant said. 

“Too passionate?” Kent asked. 

“No,” Grant said, sounding surprised. “You’re probably the perfect amount of passionate. People who love their jobs should get upset when things don’t go right. It’s how we grow and we work harder. But-”

“But that’s my thing,” Kent finished his sentence for him. “I shouldn’t make other people deal with it.” 

“You know I’m there for you when you have a tough loss,” Grant said. 

“I’m there for you when you have a bad night at the hospital.” 

“And last night was hard on me, and I hadn’t had a lot of sleep, so maybe I overreacted.” 

“You didn’t,” Kent said. “I needed to be called out on my bullshit. It was so bad, Grant. I was wallowing, just like you said, that it took me  _ hours  _ to realize what it meant when you said you had a bad day at work.” Kent paused. “I don’t want to be like that.” 

“You’re not,” Grant said. “You had a moment and it doesn’t define you.” 

It was so weird to hear Grant use language like his therapist used. Beth was reminding him that he could decide which things he wanted to define him. He nodded and they went back to their pizza. 

“What do you want to do today?” Grant asked. He didn’t need to be back at the hospital until that evening. 

“Can we just lay in bed and fuck and watch TV all day?” 

“Jesus. God, yes. That sounds amazing.” 


End file.
